


Meant to be One

by smittenone



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst, Arranged Marriage, Knotting, Loss of Virginity, Mpreg, Multi, Mutual Pining, Omega Stiles Stilinski, Possessive Behavior, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-24
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2018-10-10 02:09:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 89,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10426830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smittenone/pseuds/smittenone
Summary: His nerves felt like a live wire was running hot beneath his skin, hands fidgeting with the silken material of his robe. If he had the concentration to spare, he might had worried about tearing it.It was all he could do to sit there at the vanity, eyes squeezed shut, and try to give in the constricting pressure around his chest that said that he was about to fall into a panic attack.Breath in. Breath out. His own heartbeat rushed in his ears.He was only eighteen, and already he was set to marry one of the most elusive, feared monarchs in the world that he’d never even set eyes on before.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for stopping by to read this humble story written by moi! Funnily I haven't written fanfics in quite a few years, but I'd like to get back in the habit. This work isn't beta-ed so please forgive if there are a few errors that I missed. And, obviously, I don't own any characters in this story. 
> 
> Enjoy!

His nerves felt like a live wire was running hot beneath his skin, hands fidgeting with the silken material of his robe. If he had the concentration to spare, he might had worried about tearing it. 

It was all he could do to sit there at the vanity, eyes squeezed shut, and try to give in the constricting pressure around his chest that said that he was about to fall into a panic attack. 

Breath in. Breath out. His own heartbeat rushed in his ears. 

Tonight was the last time he was to be in the home he’d grown up in, the home that his father had raised him to the the prince he was. The home that he’d spent all the precious time with his mother. 

Stiles let one last exhale brush past his lips before opening his eyes to gaze at himself in the mirror. Brown eyes stared back, underlined by dark purple bruises. Unfortunately, he had spent the night tossing and turning, getting the bare minimum of sleep.

It had been only two weeks ago that a Hale messenger had ridden up to the castle, requesting the immediate presence of King Stilinski and his son, to pronounce that the King of Beacon Hills had accepted the marriage proposal for the prince's hand. Stiles’ legs had wobbled and nearly given out before him when the words were uttered. 

He was only eighteen, and already he was set to marry one of the most elusive, feared monarchs in the world that he’d never even set eyes on before. 

His father’s face had looked almost as shocked as he had felt. The marriage was only offered as a necessity as the Argent troops made their way further and further into their kingdom, despite their neutrality, and all expectations were that alpha would decline, as he had every other proposal thrown his way, and they could settle instead for an easy alliance. John had quickly offered the option of pulling out of the agreement, but Stiles had just made his fervent objections. They couldn’t risk angering _both_ kingdoms surrounding them, and with rising tensions, they needed the protection Beacon Hill’s esteemed army could offer. 

Of course one of the few times Stiles manages to do his princely duties is when it would get him married to a man who the simple mention his name could make stout men tremble. 

But the quiet was boldly interrupted when the door to his chambers flew open, and Melissa walked in, carrying a tray in her arms. 

“What’s this that I hear that you returned your breakfast and lunch platter nearly completely untouched?” The beta plopped the tray down in front of him before facing him with her arms crossed across the front of her plain grey bodice. 

Stiles couldn’t help but cringe under her stern motherly gaze. No one could be unaffected by that. Even his father. “I wasn’t feeling hungry. I felt like I might throw up.”

The castle healer rolled her eyes. “It’s just nerves. Trust me, I felt the same way the morning I married Scott’s father, and I actually knew the man. Or I thought as much. But it won't come across very well if the bride faints at the alter in front of the whole court. _That_ is a first impressions worthy only of you.”

She pushed the tray closer and Stiles could see that the bowl was only full of a light broth. Deciding that, one, he could stomach that much and, two, he didn’t want to incur the full wrath of Melissa McCall, he brought the spoon to his mouth. It burnt his tongue slightly, but he suddenly realized how lightheaded he’d begun to feel and quickly took a second. 

Propriety be damned. 

It was a small bowl anyway, so he quickly dropped the spoon in favor of lifting the whole damn thing to his mouth and quickly swallowing it all down. An amused sigh came from Melissa as her thumb wiped away a small track of the broth from his cheek, which quickly just turned into a gentle stroking. There was a subtle shift in the atmosphere. She knelt down in front of the stool he sat on, her slightly watery gaze on his. 

“I’ve watched you grow up in such a strong young man.” Her voice was so soft. “I’d never try to replace your mother, but I love you like a second son Stiles. I just want you to know that. And I wish you every happiness.”

Suddenly Stiles’ throat felt thick, and with no hesitation he pulled her to him in a hug. The moment her arms came around him, warm and protective, the emotion and stress seemed to numb away. This was the woman that had kissed the scraps to his elbows and knees from each adventure he and Scott went on after the stern lecture they always deserved, and the one that had sat by his bed coaxing water down his throat during his first, terrifying heat. He would always love Claudia, the memory of her growing sweeter and slightly hazy over the years, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t also love Melissa. 

“Thank you.” His words were mumbled into her thick black curls, the muted scent of cider tickled his nose. “You’ve been more than I could ask for.”

They stayed close for a moment before she pulled back, smiling at him. “You’ve got to get ready. It’s your big day.” With a soft grunt Melissa pulled herself back up to her feet, grabbed the tray, and with one last wink walked out the door. Stiles turned back to the vanity, making a face at his own appearance. His hand reached up and tugged on a tuff of his hair. It was really time to get it cut soon, it was getting longer than he usually kept it. 

“You’re gonna go bald if you keep doing that.” His lady, Lydia smacked his hand away. 

She looked much for fitting for a wedding than he possibly could. Strawberry hair was intricate pilled atop her head, skin glowing and rosy in a deep magenta gown as she laid out his wedding attire. Once satisfied with that she snapped back to his, one manicured grip turning his chin this and that way with a dissatisfied cluck of her tongue.  

“What’d you do last night? Get in a boxing match with your pillow?”

“Yeah, and I think it won,” Stiles mumbled. 

She grabbed his hands and hefted him up to his feet. “I can’t wait to see you in your wedding gown!” 

Stiles felt his face twist. It wasn’t really a dress itself, but at the _"omega"_ person in the relationship, and a high status one at that, he couldn’t help the slight feminization that was tradition. He pulled off the robe that he’d been clutching too like a lifeline at her expectant look, and not of the first time, wondered how he’d had the luck to surround himself with such brash women. 

Servants slipped out behind Lydia from where they had been preparing a porcelain bath for him, and she all but pushed him into it. Vanilla and cinnamon wafted from the milky water, and it instantly relaxed each tensed muscle in his body. Lydia settled in the plush stool he’d left open, and busied herself for a moment making sure the curls were to her liking. Years ago Stiles would have died on the spot to be nude while the object of his childhood affections sat two feet over, but they’d settled into such an easy friendship that he found the situation only slightly embarrassing. 

“How are you feeling?” she asked to her reflection, though hazel eyes flitted over to his in the polished mirror. 

He shrugged, watching the water run over his body. “It’s weird to think that in only a few hours I’m going to be mated to man I’ve never laid eyes on or said a single word to.” He was quiet for another beat. “He’s probably not gonna like me. The marriage contract never mentioned a scrawny, hyperactive, mouthy omega.”

Lydia turned in her seat, one perfect brow raised. “Listen Stiles, if he doesn’t like you he isn’t a deserving alpha, king or not. And even I can admit you’ve got quite a good ass. Use that.”

“So what am I to you, a walking ass?”

“It’ll certainly help in the wedding bed.”

Stiles immediately felt the heat flush up his neck. “That’s enough of that conversation!”

The fellow omega just rolled her eyes, pinching her own cheeks to bring the color back. “Stiles, hopefully within the next 24 hours you’ll officially become a fully, throughly debauched married man. Get used to it.”

The idea made Stile blanche, sinking lower into the water until it lightly lapped at his chin. “I’ve already gotten the basic talk from Melissa after my presentation.” He shuddered at the memory, sitting on the corse bed in her healers room as she gave him the much too long lecture on his expected duties once he was married. “I couldn’t look at her in the eye for a fully three days after.”

“Well,” she stood up and held out a towel for him to take while her head was turned away to give at least a semblance of privacy. Quickly he dried off and pulled on his underclothes. When he turned back to Lydia, he could have sworn her head had snapped back to act as though she hadn’t snuck a peak. 

First things first. One thing he thanked the gods for was the lack of full bodice corset that used to be required of all women and omega males. Instead, he allowed to settle to be forced into a waist cincer. Of course, god forbid he not have a tiny waist. Then just came layer and layer of soft, white fabric coating his body. 

Midway though Lydia made him stop and turn for her, smirking. “Looks like I was right abut your ass.” Then she dragged him in front of the full length mirror in the corner of his room, only to smile wider at how red his face heated. Soon suited in a buttoned vest, and cloak settled comfortably over his shoulders, he was ready. 

“Look up.” That was all the warning she gave before she began to attack the circles below his eyes with a powder he wasn’t even sure where she pulled from. Then after an eye-watering minute, Lydia was finally satisfied.

Stepping back, her eyes gave him a sharp, final look over. Stiles saw her approval in the way her smile curved upwards. “You look fit for a king.”

“There’s a reason I trusted only the best today to help me.”

Her head titled to the slight, hand to her chest mock exaggeration being flattered. “Compliments get you everywhere Stilinski.” Lydia stepped forward, grasping his hands in her own and touched her cheeks to his on either side. How very exotic of her. “For once I’m nearly concerned about not being the most beautiful in the room.”

Stiles laughed, completely at ease for the first time in those two weeks.  

“One last thing,” Lydia said as she began to lead him away to the door of his chamber. “Bite your lip.”

“What— why?” she gave him a look until he sighed and chewed on his lower lip with a glare. 

“There. They look almost sinfully good now.” She turned with a click of her heels and Stiles was left to follow her with his mouth agape. 

The pair of omegas made it down to the corridor outside the Hall where the wedding was to take place. King Stilinski stood pacing back and forth, dressed in pale sliver with a blue sash across his broad his chest and the ceremonial crown on top of his greying brown hair. 

Lydia gave his arm one last squeeze and slipped away to join the crowd from the side down. Stiles watched her sashay away, hearing the chatter filter out as the door cracked open and closed again. 

“Are you still sure about this?” John still sounded as though he was drowning in guilt and worry. His only son was to be married to man they all knew nothing about because of a miscalculation he had made. 

Stiles shook his head and smiled. “I’m still up for it dad. Don’t worry, I’m choosing to do this.”

His gaze was caught by a new banner flanking the hall besides the Stilinski own. A simple bright blue banner with a triple spiral in the center. The Hale flag. When one of the serving girls had slipped into his room that morning to deliver his breakfast tray, she’d gleefully told him about the fanfare that morning when a train of carriages pulled up to the castle doors, flanked by soldiers and led by the mysterious Derek Hale. All she’d been able to catch with a streak of dark hair on a strong build before he’d quickly dismounted. 

His father shook his head with an amused chuckle. “I don’t know where you got this spirt, but you’re making me proud. And your mother.”

“It would have been nice if she’d been able to be here.” Stiles’ voice was soft, picturing the soft memory of soft brown hair and eyes that was his mother. 

“She’s watching, no doubt about it.”

Father and son shared the comforting thought for a moment, embracing until the first keys of the wedding cue began to dramatically play. John quickly turned to a hall boy standing to the side, holding the smaller crown that was made for Stiles in extremely formal events. The king reached out and placed it on his son’s head, looking at him with the look like he was trying to memorize each mole on his skin. 

“Don’t worry dad,” Stiles whispered as they pulled themselves together and faced the huge oak doors, arm in arm. “You’ll be seeing more than enough of me. I’ll make sure of it until you're sick of me.”

John’s face lit up in a eye crinkling smile just as the doors swung open, revealing the masses that rose from their seats to greet the prince as father and son took the first steps inside. Stiles’ gaze immediately went straight ahead to the alter, to the man waiting before him. 

His heart dropped. 

King Derek Hale stood tall and handsome in a traditional dark suit of his kingdom, heavy crown settled in dark locks, and an intense green gaze on Stile. 

A dark gaze full of distain. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this was quite a short opening chapter, and don't worry, the norm will be quite longer than this! And at least once a week! But I hope you enjoyed this little starter, and I'll see you all soon!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly I'm so overwhelmed with the amount of people that seemed to enjoy my writing and story so far! Thank you all so much! And don't worry, the first chapter will have been the shortest chapter by far, I just wanted to get something out. And I'll also be updating on at least a weekly basis. So I hope you all enjoy!

  
What could he have possibly done to anger a man he’d never met before that very moment?

Stiles was a nervous wreck, and he was almost positive that the scent of it was rolling off him in waves, but he hoped everyone just attribute it the fact that he was standing before a crowd of some of the most powerful allies and friends of his nation, about to be married to the man staring down intensely from the few inches he had on Stiles.

Once Stiles had reached the alter, his father almost hesitant to leave his side, Derek’s eyes had sharply snapped off of him, resolutely glaring at the poor minister who’d seemed five seconds away from devolving into a nervous breakdown under it. Personal vows had been forgone for obvious reasons, both groom and bride repeating the words in measured, blank tones. When Stiles had chanced a glance to the man besides him, he noted the impressive jaw clenched tight, the words barely escaping.

But it was when they turned to each other after rings were exchanged, a plain gold band wrapped around the ring finger of his left hand, did the feared King look him in the eyes since his entrance.

Now that gaze, _a beautiful shade_ Stiles couldn’t help but think, was almost devoid of any feeling behind them. It made Stiles almost wish for the anger back.

It was something at least.

“And now of the mating bite, the closest bond between any two there may be.” The minister’s tight words made Stiles start. His hand would have gone his neck if they both hadn’t already been in the loose grip, the grip the tightened for a split second at his flinch.

The bonding bite was one of the most sacred things in the world, between any pair but utmost to alpha and omega pairs. It was like opening a bit of your own soul to the other person, the biggest gift a pair could give each other. Most times it was done in the mist of a heat or rut, passion joining both physically and spiritually. But this marriage was one of the most public and important to happen in years, and to be reassured of the joining of the two large kingdoms, all parties would prefer immediate proof of the bonding.

Derek’s hands dropped his and went to the collar of his shirt, made specifically in mind to give easy access to Stiles’ neck. He bared his neck to the alpha, completely submissive in the gesture, and Stiles could hear the small intake of breath through his nose Derek made. Dry lips ghosted over the sensitive flesh there for a second, making Stiles shiver as thoughts raced over his mind. Would it hurt as much as old wives tales had made it out to be? Would that change any way that he or Derek looked at each other, felt about each other? Would Derek resent him more than he seemingly already did for not being the perfect little omega, content to sit aside and sow and pop out baby after baby for him?

There was a small burst of pain as those sharp teeth broke of skin of his neck, midway up the side as was tradition, but it quickly gave way to a completely overwhelming rush of emotion and adrenaline. For a moment, it was like he was swimming in his own mind, every feeling amplified and reflected back before he was able to feel another presence in his mind. It wasn’t too intrusive, not like he could hear the thoughts or the exactly emotions coursing through Derek, but it was just like he existed.

The faintest shade of him huddled in the back of Stiles’ consciousness.

After another few beats Stiles opened eyes he hadn’t even realized he had closed, blearily realizing that he was against the firm wall that was Derek’s chest, arms around him holding him up from legs that must have given out in the overwhelming wave that was the bond forming. Derek was completely rigid, looking out over Stiles’ head at the crowd that was clapping enthusiastically with the ever-present blank stare. The scent of smoky pine and, surprisingly, honey completely enveloped him, settled as if was the most comfortable scent in the world to him. There was an underlying bitter twinge of the scent though, and all of a sudden it died down to a muted fragrance, and Stiles realized Derek must be suppressing his pheromones.

“Sorry, sorry,” Stiles murmured, trying to push himself back up, despite that fact that all his instinct wanted to do was bury his nose back to his mate’s chest and neck and coax the scent back out with soft touches, but his legs wobbled and nearly gave out beneath him again. Derek’s grip of steel returned to his upper arm, guiding him along as they walked down the center aisle surrounded by cheers.

At least his new husband looked annoyed now.

It was a step in _a_ direction.

“Don’t make a fool of yourself by falling on your face. You need a minute after the bite, just get to the hall and take a seat.”

Ah, what lovely first words.

Stiles was almost angry that he looked so unaffected by it all. The bond was a two-way road, the rush of another person becoming symbolically and partially literally a part of you was a huge, sudden transition. That’s why most times it was made in the climax of a mating, helped along already by the rush of pheromones.

Stiles pulled his arm away with a particularly hard yank, nearly unbalancing himself in the process, and it was with all his will and determination that he managed to make it to the dinning hall without a face plant. That was a hazard on any normal day regardless.

The crowd filtered into the great hall through the main doors as Stiles and Derek stood off in a side hallway, collecting themselves. Finally the haze left Stiles’ vision and his hand rose to gingerly prod at the new bite decorating his neck. A servant stood prepared for the King and his consort’s needs, holding a small hand mirror and white towel half in a small bowl of water. Seeing the small ring of blood around the bite, Stiles wiped it away with the wet material, a small hiss whistling past his teeth at how rough the material felt against the newly sensitive skin.

“Stiles!”

A shout echoed in a the small corridor and all eyes turned to the boyish man sprinting down the hallway with a crooked grin stretching across his face. With only a slight wheeze, Scott slid to a stop and threw his arms around his best friend, laughing. “You’re a married man!”

Stiles couldn’t help with smile at his friend’s enthusiasm, and reflexively wrapped his arms back around him. But they both quickly froze with a quiet growl cut them like a knife, looking to Derek to see him looking almost surprised at himself and turning to busy himself with something else.

“I looked for you, but I couldn’t see where you were.” Stiles’ voice was more hushed now, still half focused on his husband who had turned his back to them.

“Barely got in before it started. There were so many people out here, and I just had to stand in the back corner for the whole thing.” Scott shrugged, hair flopping in his hair as it had ever since it first grow long enough to do so when they were kids.

Despite the huge gap in being the crown prince and the son of the castle healer, Scott and Stiles had become inseparable for nearly the instant they could walk. Both boys had spent far too much time shirking their duties and exploring hidden crevasses in the castle, every nook and cranny. It had become a favorite pastime of theirs to hide in some new, elusive spot around the castle, stifling their laughter as guards had run themselves into a panic looking for the missing prince until John’s booming alpha voice would call Stiles out, trembling and whimpering his apologies until the next week when they’d grow bored again. Or their other habit was pulling tricks on those around that had the misfortune of catching their eye of vexing one of the two. Finstock, one of Stiles’ most torturous tutors, was most often the victim of their pranks in things that would have boys clutching their sides in laughter. That was, until Stiles was back in the library, hunched over a book that weighed twice as much as he did while Finstock ridiculed his every tiny mistake in a loud, mocking voice.

“What’s he like?” Scott whispered in his ear, eyebrows raised like he was waiting for some incredulous truth to be spilt.

Stiles rolled his eyes, huffing. “Well, he’s certainly no prince charming. I don’t know why he’d agree to this if he didn’t want to get married.”

He almost jumped at the presence suddenly at his back, glaring harshly at both of them. How did someone that large even move that quietly?

“We don’t need to keep everyone waiting,” Derek said gruffly, turning away to the door before he could even respond.

Scott was clearly unimpressed and Stiles mirrored his look before standing to take his place next to Derek, arm threaded through his. A call was given to welcome to pair into the room with excitement crackling in the room. A stark contrast to the dull lack of energy between the two of them; Derek’s smile looked as though someone was jabbing him with a needle repeatedly and Stiles’ just felt fake.

Once seated at the head table as the guests of honor, the feast began. Lively music played from the band to the side, beautifully roasted meats laid out in platters, vegetables pilled on, and pastries arranged in mouthwatering dishes. But still Stiles’ plate remained relatively clear, pushing around the same piece of roast back and forth, chewing slowly.

He spotted his father with a plate piled with meats soaking in fat and salts, and though his tongue itched to call him out for his unhealthy habits, especially after Melissa’s constant concerns for his heart, he kept quiet about it. Let his father have a day to enjoy himself.

Someone should.

Stiles looked to Derek, seeing the king sitting rigidly in his chair, and though he didn’t have the same appetite problem as Stiles, he still had the air of discomfort around him. What concerned Stiles the most was the rapid repetitiveness of his goblet emptying over and over, a servant disappearing from the shadows to keep pouring more thick wine into his cup. He spoke to no one, which Stiles wasn’t too surprised by. His entourage had been comprised completely of guards or trusted servants. He’d heard of Derek having a younger sister and uncle, but they were glaringly absent from Derek’s side during the wedding. The travel to the castle was long and it was too much of a risk to the the two last remaining Hales out in open territory where they could be attacked and killed or held for ransom if the Argents had laid traps. He couldn’t help but wonder what his sister-in-law would be like.

Derek caught his looks partway through dinner, and once again that stare darkened before he threw back the cup and slammed it back down, empty yet again. Stiles was amazed at the ease the he stood up, once again seemly unaffected.

“I’ll be heading up. Whenever you’re ready.” His voice was gruff, and he gave a stiff half bow before stepping out from around his seat and out the door.

A pool of dread began to fill at the pit of Stiles’ stomach.

The wedding night.

He’d all but spoken three sentences to the man that he was no expected to lay back for and spread his legs. The small bit he’d eaten threatened to rise back up out of his mouth.

He could stay there all night, avoid his husband, but that would only be delaying the inevitable. Stiles stood up, rather abruptly, and clasped his hands in front of him to try to control how much they were shaking. He saw Lydia’s head snap up from where she was sitting, making her excuses to rise from her seat.

“Thank you all for blessing us with your presence on this celebration between two kingdoms,” Stiles’ words quieted the hall, all attention turning to him. “But I’m feeling rather tired after all this fanfare, and so I’ll be seeing myself out. Please enjoy yourselves for a little while longer, and all your thanks.” He then turned to walk out, followed by a fair amount of catcalls and jeers as the music swelled back to its crescendo, his shoulders rising to his ears as he hunched over.

Lydia met him in what was now the side chamber to his wedding room, undoubtedly with Derek already inside.

“You reek like you’re about to be sent to your death,” she said as she helped him shed all the ridiculous layers.

Stiles took a deep breath, shrugging out of the robe and began unbuttoning the shirt beneath it. “He’s honestly the most sour person I’ve ever met. Maybe that’s why his face is always squished up like that.”

Lydia only snorted in response.

“Maybe that’s why he accepted the proposal. Maybe he pissed on every other offer and this was the last chance he would have gotten to get a high-class omega.”

That comment garnered him a disapproving look. Stiles seemed to be good at getting those, especially lately. The other omega sat on one end of a chaise longue pushed against the wall, patting a hand down next to her for Stiles to join.

“Look, I’ve been your friend for how long now?”

Stiles thought for a moment. “Well I like to think for maybe about ten years now, but it really wasn’t until two, or three, that you actually talked to me even when it wasn’t your duty.”

Lydia waved her hand. “That’s not the point. Stiles, I think I’ve come to you know well enough over those years. I’m not one to mince my words, so when I say things there’s no doubt I mean them. You’ve become an amazing person, from the gangly, ball of uncomfortably awkward you were.”

She had a point. His flailing still put him as a danger to himself and others around him.

“You’re a prince— king now worthy of your crown, and more so if you’ve done it and now have to put up with him if he treats you like that. Self-sacrifice isn’t my thing, and here you are with a big ol’ bite on your neck from a man you don’t even know.” Her fingers ghosted over the mark, healed completely by now, a shade darker than the skin around it.

“If he can’t see you’re a prize that he should count himself lucky to have, you’ve just gotta show him.”

“What, give him my witty charms and the girlish laughter?”

“Exactly. Or a night he won’t forget.” She stood up, and went to pull a nightgown from a trunk. “Best not to keep him waiting too long. He might pass out if the amount of wine I saw him drinking had anything to do with it.”

She passed it to him and he rubbed the material between his fingers, slightly nauseated by how thin and sheer it was.

“The party’s still going on, and I have bets on which poor unwitting young man Lady Blake is going to manage to drag back to her chambers.” Lydia gave a twirl of her wrist as she waltzed to the door, smiling. “Don’t stress yourself out. And remember, your asset is just that. Your ass.”

She winked as he tried to sputter back some sort of response, and slipped away.

Stiles was left holding the nightgown for a moment, a smile pulling at his lips. Finally pulling off his underclothes, he yanked it over his head and stood before the small mirror offered.

It was awful. He guess it was supposed to be enticing and alluring, but the payoff wasn’t so much. The fabric hid nothing, basically acting as a false sense of security as everything was on display. Stiles crossed his hands in front of his groin and tried to suppress the urge of cross on arm across his chest where his nipples made small rising peaks as the cool air suddenly flushed over him.

All that separated him from his soon-to-be consummated husband was a door, and Stiles could already smell his scent from a room away. Surprisingly, it calmed him down in a weird way, almost like numbing all the nerves he had where they didn’t have him rooted to the floor.

One last breath and before his courage could give away to his fears again, Stiles walked to the door and pushed it open.

The bedchamber was dully lit with candles, the sickly sweet smell of roses hanging in the air too. But his eyes immediately went to the figure sitting at the edge of the bed.

Derek had certainly made himself comfortable, the wedding robe lying over a chair and the top buttons of his crisp shirt undone. There was a pause between when he looked up and actually looked at Stiles.

Stiles stood in the middle of the room, unsure of what to do. Derek stood slowly, but with purpose and Stiles couldn’t help but feel a bit like prey under his sharp eyes, the alpha pheromones filling the room making his knees feel weak again.

A larger hand wrapped around his wrist and pulled it away from where they had still been shielding his manhood. Stiles’ face burned terribly, and his head dropped but fingers quickly latched to his chin and pulled it up to look at him.

“Are you sure you want to go through with this?” For once, Derek’s features seemed to soften and actual concern seemed to spark in his eyes. His scent almost seemed to wrap around him, comforting.

Stiles nodded. Derek’s gaze jumped to to his mouth for a second, and Stiles thought he was going to be kissed for the first time, not counting the time he and Scott had a go out at the age of ten before their presentations, but then Derek just turned away and began to unbutton his shirt.

“On the bed,” was thrown over his shoulder, and Stiles faltered for a second before crawled to the bed, sitting on his feet and again at a loss of what to do.

Stripped down, Derek was shockingly fit and was built in a way that was ready to make Stiles’ mouth water. He knelt on the bed before Stiles, looming over him. His hands went to the night dress and the downward twist of his lips said that he felt the same way about it that Stiles had.

“Take it off.”

Even though Stiles had felt bare before in it, the gown was the last barrier between them. Still, Derek’s gaze was expectant, and Stiles slowly reached down to pull it over his head. Hands pushed him to lay back, his chest beginning to heave with each breath as the gravity of the situation became clearer and clearer.

Derek’s body laid over his, his nose buried in the apex of his neck, breathing in deeply.

“Calm down,” his voice was gravelly, clearly not as unaffected as he put off to be. He couldn’t have as Stiles’ scent shifted in arousal at an alpha at such proximity over him, despite his nerves. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

The scruff over Derek’s cheeks tickled at Stiles’ neck and he couldn’t help but squirm a little beneath him, flushed hot everywhere. Hands slowly ventured down his body, tickling over his ribs and past his hips. A small whine escaped his lips, feeling high on the scents and sensations surrounding him.

The hand on his half-hard cock surprised him, calloused fingers wrapping around him with the right pressure and slowly beginning to pump. Stiles’ arched up, breath catching in his throat as he gasped. “P-please.”

He didn’t even know what he was begging for, just more of it, and his fingers caught in the sheets, gripping it tightly. Derek was mouthing at the mating bite, growls slipping out every so often. The fingers around his cock were expert in how to pulled and tugged him, coaxing his quickly to the edge.

But then Derek pulled himself back up to his knees, settled on his haunches and his hand still jerking him off, thumb brushing over the head repeatedly. Stiles was confused through his haze, hips softly rolling, and a hand reached up to Derek, wanting to pull him back down to smother him.

The alpha’s eyes were bright with his arousal, and as Stiles’ eyes traveled down his exposed body with appreciation, they rested on his obvious arousal. The typical alpha, his cock was long and thick, perfect for filling up an omega in heat, and at the base, the place that Stiles knew would swell to form a knot to tie them together. To keep him full after a good mating and secure that he conceived.

Suddenly Derek's hand gave a finally tug and left his cock, making him give out a stuttered whimper. But then a finger brushed against his hole, probing and slicked with his own precome, and Stiles’ entire body went ridged.

Of course he know that was what Derek was expected, what everyone was, but still he was terrified when the action was suddenly, no pun intended, thrust on him.

The finger was still there, circling softly the hole that was only slightly wet with natural slick.

“Relax,” Derek murmured, engrossed in what he was doing. “It's not going to hurt if I prepare you properly.”

But no matter how he pushed his pheromones and spoke in a soothing rumble, Stiles felt a panic rising up in his throat. He wasn't ready for this by any means. Without meaning to, he twisted his body, trying to hide away from the foreign finger trying to coax him open.

Suddenly Derek’s scent flared with a bitter edge again, and his expression shut down again. Stiles suddenly missed the sight of him without his brows furrowed.

The finger disappeared from the cleft of his ass, and instead the hand returned to his cock, jerking it with a more hurried sense than the languid teasing earlier. For a moment, Stiles just wished he could have just done it, fucked Derek the way any and every omega did on their wedding night, or some even before.

More than anything, he just wanted to do something right with this alpha. He didn't want to see that handsome expression darkened anymore.

Derek led him to an intense orgasm, coming with a loud cry and his hips lifting completely off the feather-bed mattress. But the afterglow was quickly shattered at sour way he felt.

Wiping his hand on the edge of the sheet, Derek stood up, pulling his discarded pants on despite the hard on he still sported.

“Where are you going?” Stiles’ voice sounded shaky to even his own ears.

“I'll sleep on the side room.” His voice was sharp again. “Wouldn't want to make you uncomfortable.”

Stiles pulled the unsoiled side of the sheet up to cover himself, suddenly aware of his nudity again. “You really don't have to.”

“When's your heat due?”

“There more weeks.”

Derek nodded and walked out without another word said, perhaps shutting the door with a little bit more force than necessary.

Stiles laid back in the bed, cheeks burning worn humiliation. He'd done Lydia’s words true and made it a night neither of them would certainly forget.

For all the wrong reasons.

What a wonderful start to a beautiful marriage.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So here you get a small feel for why Derek disliked Stiles so much at the wedding even before their disaster of a wedding night. Also, it's time to go home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait for this chapter! I went on a spring break trip with my friends, and last minute decided not to take my laptop with me! I wrote this whole thing out in one sitting because I felt so awful for the wait, so please excuse any mistakes you find with it!

The letter had arrived one afternoon, clever script announcing King Stilinski’s offer of his only son’s hand in marriage, along with a small portrait of the omega from his court presentation. Amber eyes seemed to leap out from the pale, mole spotted face. 

Derek threw it onto the table with nothing more than the usual cursory glance, but the minute it hit the glided wood, another hand snatched it up. 

“It seems like the last available omega that you haven’t rebuffed.” His uncle’s voice was twisted in amusement, admiring the portrait for a moment longer. 

“Yet you mean.”

With a sigh, Peter looked at him with a glance far more filled with a mockery of pity than he would have cared for. “If you think that you can make do, just punishing yourself forever and cursing every omega or beta that so much as bats their eyelashes at you, you’re only going to keep alienating every other dignitary and causing us more trouble.”

Derek just grunted, slouching back in his chair.

He felt much more at home with his sword in hand, roar rumbling through his chest, and eyes glowing a vicious red that made the Argent’s troops reek of fear he could soak in before he separated their heads from their shoulders. He didn’t want to think of mating any man or women, regardless of stature or secondary gender. 

The murky eyes of the last person he’d opened to the thought of love still haunted him in his dreams or the scorch marks still marking the stone walls of parts of the castle. 

“We’ve had no troubles with them so far.”

“You don’t think the Argents have been trying to sweet talk the other nobility that have remained neutral thus far?” Peter’s voice was a gruff with frustration. “If they gather up enough to convince a few to tip over to their side, more and more will follow. Never mind being rebuffed, we seem a country with no cares or ties to anyone else. In war this can be what is our doom.”

“Do not talk to me as if I am a child playing king, Peter.”

“Then do not act like one!”

Derek’s quick growl cut between them and into silence. There was no lost love between them, and it was no secret that Peter lusted after the role of king. He remember the days after their family had burned, the monarchy going directly the rightful heir, Laura, as the eldest child. 

There had been high hopes for her leadership was queen. She had been trained to been a ruler.

Then one night she was just gone.

Peter had been the one to find her, cold and dead just outside the castle grounds. An Argent assassin had gotten close enough to plunge a dagger through her heart. An attempt to finish up the job that even the fire hadn’t been able to finish. 

Derek and Cora had been inconsolable, wrapped up in each other under the security of the blankets of Laura’s bed. The scent of her had been the strongest there as they held each other and cried for another Hale taken too soon and too terribly. 

Hunters were relentless, and it seemed they had finally decided that having a kingdom led by wolves was a thing for the past. 

The days then had blurred as the argument of who should next wear the crown waged within the advisors. Peter made his bid, stout as he said that Laura was the prime example of why they couldn’t allow their country to be led by children as they entered a long overdue fight. Derek remembered the few day he could be pried away from Cora and Laura’s room, bleary and red-eyed as he was paraded around as the perfect prince. 

It was wrong though. Laura had always been the golden child, the perfect alpha. 

If he had the choice himself, he would have gladly given the crown to his uncle. It was too much and too fragile for him. Not to mention the guilt weighing on his shoulders. 

He had invited the tempting murderess in after her whispered sweet nothings. He’d shared his family secret with her, delighted by the way she only looked interested when he shifted before her. When Talia had looked at her uneasily, Derek had brushed off her muted warnings as simply an overprotective mother. 

His mistake. 

Soon the decision was made and Derek found himself at a coronation, royal cloak weighing him back and a crown nearly slipping down on his forehead. Weeks before he was only a cocky, newly presented prince who had no obligations resting on him. Now he was a king leading a war for the lives of his family and every soul in his kingdom. 

That was a job he took seriously, leading the brigade against the Argents and spending every waking moment of his late teenage years training and pushing harder as he swore he would see to it that every single person responsible for his family’s misery would pay.

That hadn’t left for a lot of time for love. The offers were almost nonexistent at this point. 

Peter broke the tense silence after a moment. “Take it. Marry the boy.”

“What makes you press him more than any other offer?”

“Their country lies directly to the other side of us. If the Argents managed to coax them over, we’d be fighting a two front war, which we both know would be stretching us way too far.” 

Derek said nothing.

“Besides that, they’re rather self sufficient. We could use the resources, and the allies they would be bringing with them.”

The silence carried one with Derek stubbornly staring ahead.

Peter sighed. “If you won’t listen to my words, think of your people. We may be wolves, but even we can’t carry on for so long on our own. They need the reinforcement.”

The portrait, turned upside down to him, caught Derek’s glare again. To be selfish, Derek would have locked himself back in his own chambers, pilled pillows over his head to block out the ever present noise, and stayed there until he wilted away. He’d felt each pack member die both nights, the terror and pain had hung in the air until they were replaced with the deep and overwhelming stench of death. 

No matter what anyone could try to console him with, he was responsible. He had brought the Argent spy with him, lured by her assurances of love and sweet scent.

Derek remembered the sharp zest of cinnamon, softened by the vanilla laced in. Manufactured he later learned. 

But he couldn’t be selfish. He had others to put before himself.

“Send the reply then.” His throat felt closed off as he spoke, nearly choking on each word. “I accept the proposition. I’ll marry the omega with the unpronounceable name.”

 

—————————————————————

 

Standing up at the alter, alone and slightly engulfed by the commotion in the room, Derek only wished he could have had his sister next to him. The scent of pack would have kept him more grounded. Now his gums itched, like his incisors were ready to jump out at his agitations. 

Peter had pushed for the wedding to happen as soon as possible, probably to prevent him from coming to his senses and pulling out of the engagement, and he knew so little about the man, more boy, that he was about to mate.

But soon the wedding march struck up and Derek’s eyes snapped to the doors that would reveal his betrothed for the first time. His heart drummed for a moment. Nerves, he realized. The minute the doors creaked open, his back snapped even straighter until it was painful and he took a deep, steading breath.

Then it hit him. The heady scent of his betrothed. 

The aroma of cinnamon and vanilla. 

 

—————————————————————

 

Stiles endured a restless night, tossing from side to side and battered by thoughts of his new marriage. He’d heard of distressing stories about omegas’ wedding nights, being forcefully taken, alphas with no considerations for their pain and things like that. But he’d never heard of omegas being left, virginity intact, rejected by their alpha like that. 

The curtain around the bed was roughly pulled open and Stiles squinted up to see Derek looking down at him with a look that could be described as disgruntled interest. 

Like he was something that Derek couldn’t be bothered to get close to, but still was something new to him. 

“The carriage leaves for Beacon Hills in an hour. We don’t want to arrive late in the evening.”

Stiles blinked the little bit of sleep from his eyes, sitting up. He hadn’t felt up to getting out of bed to dress after the incident the night before, so he pulled one of the thinner sheets from the pile of comforters on him and wrapped it around his shoulders like a cloak to cover himself. 

“Where’d you go last night?”

Please not to a serving girl’s bed, someone that would be able to sleep with a king without panicking. He couldn’t bear the filthy rumor spreading back to Melissa or Scott or, god in heaven forbid, his father. 

“Slept on a couch in the sitting room. Not much more uncomfortable than a traveling cot in battle.”

Stiles let out a breath that had been trapped in his throat. 

Derek turned away for a moment, standing in front of a dresser before returning with a tray. He set it at the foot of the bed. “Eat up. You won’t get much of a rich meal while on the road.”

When Stiles reached for the tray, he saw it was piled with fresh fruits, eggs, still warm bread and a steaming cup of tea. He tried to give a thankful smile, but Derek steadily looked away from him. Probably good, with how strained it felt between them.

He occupied himself a moment just eating, feeling the anxiety in the atmosphere. In the end, he was probably making more of a fool of himself as the juices from the fruits ran down his chin and the more than loud chewing in the total silence. 

Thankfully a soft knock at the door took both their attentions. Derek strode over and yanked it open to Scott’s smiling face. 

“Sorry your highness, didn’t mean to intrude, but I wanted to talk with Stiles before he left.”

The look of Derek’s face neared incredulous, thick brows raised but he spared a glance back at Stiles, frozen mid bite, and gave a short nod before stepping around Scott and out. “Less than one hour. Don’t forget.”

The minute the door clicked shut Scott was bouncing onto the bed, nearly crushing Stiles’ legs in the process. 

“You don’t look too happy. I thought you might be happier. Why aren’t you happy?”

Of course the onslaught of questions. If Scott wasn’t all consumed by Stiles, he might have actually realized that the other half of the bed wasn’t slept in at all, the sheets just tangled by Stiles’ feet kicking out in his restlessness. 

“It just wasn’t what I expected.”

Now Scott’s eyebrows furrowed, concern taking over his features. “If he hurt you—” 

His words were slow, and Stiles made a startled noise, venomously shaking his head. 

“No! Not that!” He cried. 

He wanted to put his head in his hands. How was he even going to explain to his best friend the situation he was in?

“Just… there were certain expectations that weren’t exactly met.”

“Oh? Oh.” Scott’s face finally took a look of understanding. “I’ve heard from mom that it’s less common in alphas, but it’s not all that rare that guys are impotent.”

Stiles choked on air.

Before he could interject Scott went on, nodding. “Maybe that’s why he was so grumpy and gloomy. He knew he wouldn’t be such a stud in the bedroom. You know, I wouldn’t think it looking at him.”

At this point, Stiles was sure he was wheezing. It was worse when Scott put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t worry Stiles. I’m sure my mom knows a bunch of ways around it. I heard the Pierces’ had a similar problem.”

Finally he’d had enough with the conversation, and Stiles stood up out of bed, keeping a firm grasp on the sheet around him. “Okay Scott, thanks for the over information I’m sure I never needed to know. Let’s just not talk anymore about stuff like that before I puke. Tell me something else, like, how’d the party go last night?”

“Well,” Scott leaned back on the bed, stealing a piece of bread. “Your dad basically drank a few glasses too many, started ranting to my mom about how you’d grown up way to fast. Started telling the best stories about you as a kid.”

Stiles groaned. It probably included the one incident between him and his mom’s wardrobe when he was six. The bright colors had just fascinated him more than his boring own clothes.

“Uh, Liam was trying to impress some girls at the banquet pretty late into it. I’m not really sure what he was even trying to do, some kind of one-armed pushup maybe? I don’t know, just ended up flat on his face and kicked over a chair when they started laughing.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. The little runt had way to many issues that he didn’t want to even get into. 

“Oh! Lydia was flirting with one of the guardsmen Derek brought with him. His name was Jackson, or something. He seemed like a real arrogant bastard the whole night, but my god, you should have seen the way she had him wrapped around her fingers by the end of the evening! The best part is, I can’t wait to see his reaction when she tosses him away like old trash.”

Sounds like Lydia alright. The most alluring thing when she wanted to be, but the brains not to be taken in by just anybody. It was entertaining to watch her games with the alphas though who thought they could contain her.

“So basically just a normal night involving alcoholic drinks and too much good food?”

Scott’s crooked toothy grin was out full force. “Yep.”

“Good.”

“So you’re heading out today? For Beacon Hills?”

There was a somber feeling settling over both of them all of a sudden. “Yeah. My new home.”

Crossing his arms, Scott looked like a sullen child. “I don’t get why you can’t just stay here. You’re the heir apparent here too. You need to be here to rule.”

Stiles had muttered those same words to himself before, though they both knew exactly why. “Dad’s still ruling here, and Derek’s kingdom needs him. Later on, we’ll figure something out.” Scott huffed, which just made Stiles smile. “Don’t worry, I’ll still be back all the time. Can’t abandon my best friend can I?”

Scott got up and threw himself into a tight hug around Stiles, who tried his best to hug back with his arms trapped in the sheet around him. “You’re the best prince and best friend a guy could ask for.”

Stiles groaned and tipped his head back. “Don’t get all mushy with me!” Mostly because he was scared he might start crying if they did. 

With a dramatic sniff, Scott pulled back, wiping at nonexistent tears. “Well your highness, it’s been a wonderful eighteen years. Hope I’ve taught you well.”

At that Stiles just rolled his eyes and kicked his friend out of the room. He really knew his moment. 

Then he turned back to the room, empty again except for him and the now cold cup of tea. 

The last of the hour was quickly taken up scrubbing his body in a hastily made lukewarm bath. He once again been reminded of the horrible truth of what happens when one fell asleep with cum to dry on their skin and, worse, that little happy-trail of hair. 

While drying off, he ran a hand through his hair, noting how long it had gotten recently. With the exception of the last year, Stiles had always kept his hair cropped as short as possible to keep it off his nerves. It was mostly Lydia’s fault, she insisted he looked more ‘striking’ with it longer. He considered for a second lopping it off again, but then didn’t want to risk her deafening shriek if she saw him before he left. 

He pulled on a simple tunic and pants, then an overcoat he had worn comfortably soft over the years. There was no use in being ceremonious on the long trip. It was who he was, the new king consort, and they could take him or leave him. He didn’t need a lot of pomp to arrive. They could leave that for the ball that would be held. 

His bag was already packed for him, so Stiles took one last look around, slow and meaningful, before walking out. Goodbye to the halls he’d ran through and rooms he’d played in. 

Goodbye to the life he’d known.

His father stood waiting to see him off again, face slightly grayed and eyes bloodshot in a way that shouted how he’d coped with his son’s handing off the night before. He clasped Stiles in a hug so tight Stiles feared for a second that he might have collapsed something for a long while, breathing deep shuddering breaths. Stiles just closed his eyes and held him back. 

Most parents, especially alphas, would have expected their omega children to grown to be demure and soft-spoken, or they could forcefully herd them that way. 

Not John, and while it had probably given him more than a few early gray hairs, he had encouraged his son and let his flourish under his care. Lord knows, Stiles had to be wrangled to keep his mouth shut and his little adventures with Scott called for a few near disasters, but John loved him regardless. 

“You’re so much like your mother.”

Stiles went stiff when the words were murmured in his hair, eyes shocked open. 

“Don’t ever let that light get snuffed out.” He pulled back, just enough to look down at his son with eyes quickly misting over. 

“Dad—“

“Just keep that with you.”

Stiles nodded, the most he was able to do. He couldn’t handle everyone being like this. 

“Love you son.”

“Love you too.”

They kept the embrace for a moment before his father started to pull away, though for a brief second his fingers dug into his shoulders like John just didn’t want to give him up yet. 

Stiles turned to the traveling party waiting behind them. Derek was stiffly stroking the mane of a huge stallion, trying to give the two of them as much privacy as he could. When Stiles approached he turned back to him, shortly gesturing to the carriage in the middle of the company. 

“You’ll be riding in there. I prefer to ride out here with my men.”

Of course Stiles’ didn’t expect much less, and he was just tired by the whole affair the day had already started out to be. He nodded, and ignored the hand Derek offered to help him step in to the carriage. He wasn’t that pitiful. 

It was a shock though when he plopped himself down and found a blonde guard sitting across from him, a slightly manic smile on her face. 

“Up close you don’t look as babyish.”

Stiles’ mouth opened in confused protest but he couldn’t find the right words to say. 

She laughed, crossing her legs languidly. “Don’t worry sweet cheeks. It’s a good look for you.”

“Thank you?”

“Maybe it’s the moles. I didn’t think Derek had a thing for beauty marks.”

“He doesn’t, trust me.” The words were spat out of Stiles’ mouth before he could stop them.

She raised an eyebrow and her excessively red painted mouth puckered. 

Stiles turned red and tried to bury deeper into the velvet of the seats. They carriage gave a lurch as the procession started forward. Looking out the window, Stiles noted some of his family’s own banner men flanking Derek’s as they were going to escort them on the trip. 

In case the Argent’s had some scheme to kill them all, he supposed. 

The blond woman, a beta he scented, hadn’t taken her eyes off of him, not bothering to be subtle about it. After a minute of squirming he turned back to her. “What is it?”

She took a moment before she answered. “You know, Derek turned down what must have been a hundred marriage proposals without hesitation.”

Stiles just stared, unsure of what to do with this new information. 

“I’m just trying to figure out what makes you the one he says yes to. He’s always been pressed to marry. Maybe you’re something special.”

There Stiles shook his head. “He never met me before. All he had was a letter and a portrait.”

The beta shrugged her shoulders. 

They sat in silence for a little bit more, Stiles entertaining himself by trying to count how many large, grey, boring boulders they passed and she by pulling out a dagger and cleaning beneath her nails. Soon his leg began to bounce, feeling trapped too long in the small compartment.

“Feeling claustrophobic sweet cheeks?”

He sighed. “My name is Stiles.”

“And mine’s Erica. There. We’re better acquainted already.”

For some reason he just felt himself warming up to her unbridled personality and when she smiled again at him, he smiled back. 

Soon though the lack of sleep the previous nights started to catch up to him and he yawned until his jaw cracked. He took off the overcoat (it was getting warmer as they went anyway) and bunched it between his shoulder and wall of the carriage. 

“You’ve got a good few hours.” Erica’s voice was nonchalant and she didn’t even look up from whatever game she was playing with her knife now. 

It was all the reassurance he needed before he drifted to a deep sleep, lulled by the rocking motion. It was like a damn of exhaustion broke open over him.

At some point in the afternoon they stopped to rest the horses and eat, but Stiles only vaguely remembered Erica trying to shake his shoulder and him halfheartedly batting her away until she gave up with a few muttered words before he fell back asleep. 

The sun was hanging low in the sky when Erica woke him up again. Clearly not up for a repeat of lunch, she pinched the skin over his ribs with sharp nails, smirking when he jerked up with a yelp. 

“Are you even allowed to do that?” he muttered, rubbing at the sore spot.

“Derek loves me too much,” was all she chose to say on the point. “Anyway, we’re almost there. I just thought it might be better to give you a few minutes to wake up before we got there instead of you stumbling out in front of your new family.”

Stiles grumbled his thanks, hands trying to unwrinkled the ball that his coat had turned into. 

“What are they like?”

Erica looked mildly surprised at the question. “You really don’t know anything about him do you?”

Stiles hastily spoke. “I mean, I know about the whole big fire and Queen Laura’s assassination, but I don’t really know anything about the Hale’s left.”

“There’s only Derek, his little sister, and his uncle. As you can imagine, they’ve become a little bit of a solitary family.”

“That’s it? A family of recluses?” 

“You’ll figure the rest out when you meet them. They’re your family now after all.” Erica shut the conversation down, and Stiles sank back, still feeling tired mentally of it all. 

His eyes glanced out for a second, doubling back at the impressive picture that the Hale castle made before them. Maybe twice the size of his own family’s castle, and even more intimidating. Stiles felt lightheaded already.

Home sweet home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh, next we'll get to meet Cora and Peter through Stiles' eyes. How fun.
> 
> Also, thank you for all your kudos! Feel free to leave comments as well!! Feedback always gets me really riled up to write!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a little bit of a new development between Stiles and his new family! Fun. Also, thank you for all the lovely comments!

It was grand, there was no arguing that.

Of course Beacon Hills was a much older and established kingdom than his own, but it showed in the castle. Even now, just standing in the courtroom, Stiles felt like a meager ant in the great room, light shinning in though the large dome roof. The floor and walls were made of what he guessed had to be stone and marble, large steps leading to the raised floor across the room where the big, intimidating throne sat. Stiles could easily picture Derek sitting there, dark and regal, looking down to his subjects.

Their steps had echoed as Derek led the way from the courtyard they had arrived in and through winding corridors, spinning Stiles’ head as he tried to keep track of the way they took and every fleeting glance he took into doors and down other halls. Erica had stayed back with the carriage once they had pulled to a stop, and she had flashed him one more smile with a wink as he’d walked away. Then the last thing he had seen of her before turning a corner was another large, dark skinned guard settling beside her and the quick kiss she’d planted on him.

Inside the courtroom two figures stood waiting for them. The short, dark-haired girl spun on her heels, hurried towards Derek. Stiles’ jaw could have hit the floor when Derek’s arms opened wide and embraced her openly, a smile on his face.

So that must be the younger sister then, Cora.

There was a openness to Derek’s face, a serene look of happiness, that made Stiles almost uncomfortable to look at. All the rough angles were gone and suddenly he looked younger. Not like a man feared like a demon on a battle field.

A hand clamped down on his shoulder and Stiles nearly jumped out of his skin, turning to see an older man looming over him. Those blue eyes had a predatory quality that made him shiver.

“So you’re the lucky boy that stole my nephew from the market.”

The siblings both turned to look at them, Derek’s exasperated look aimed at his uncle while Cora’s dark gaze hung heavy on Stiles.

“You’re the one the picked him.”

Stiles’ cheeks burned a little at Derek’s reminder that he’d just been selected like a livestock from a market on display. He tried to nonchalantly pull his upper arm from where the man’s hand came to rest, but the fingers tightened in response. They were much too close for Stiles’ liking.

“He turned out better than the portrait. What a surprise.”

It wasn’t the words so much at the tone that really set the creep factor for Stiles, the oily way he spoke. With a hard step back, Stiles managed to rip himself away.

“He can also hear you,” he got out, a hand going up to rub at the sore spot left from that grip.

The beta laughed and his lips twisted into a smirk. “Touchy.”

“Let’s try to make a good impression uncle,” Cora said dryly, eyes still on Stiles.

Derek stepped away from his sister, making way to Stiles’ side. “I’m sure you’ve already figured it out but, let me introduce my sister, Cora, and my uncle, Peter. They’re the last of my family left. This is Stiles, as you both know.”

They both gave respectful, shallow nods of their heads in turn, and Stiles did the same back.

“Stiles?” Peter’s head cocked to the side. “I thought his name was — “ he fumbled for a moment, fingers snapped as if to recall the name properly.

“ _Mieczyslaw,_ ” Stiles’ tongue curled around with the word with an accuracy that could only come with practice and perhaps a little luck. “My mother’s family’s native langue. It’s given to a person who is meant to be strong and glorious, which my mother hoped I would become.”

“—that still has yet to be determined.”

Stiles looked at Cora, who simply stared back with a hard gaze.

“But everyone just calls me Stiles for short,” he finished slowly.

There was a short silence, Stiles meeting Derek’s gaze for a moment before the king cleared his throat, the shield over his expression returning before his very eyes. Derek nodded his head toward the door in regards to his uncle.

“I’m sure there have been some developments over the time I was gone.” Then he placed a hand somewhat hesitantly on Stiles’ shoulder. His grip with almost as soft as Peter’s had been bruising. “You can have some time to settle in. Cora can show you where you need to go.”

Then with a small ghost of a smile, he was walking out with Peter stiffly behind him.

—————————————————————

A day had gone by and Stiles felt no more comforted in his place.

He’d been led to Derek’s rooms by his sister-in-law that spoke less than ten words to him. The scent of his husband was thicker now than butter, making Stiles slightly lightheaded. In the vast space of the room, rich but impersonal objects littered around. A bannister bed, a curiously scratched wardrobe, and other things that could have been found in any other room he walked into. The one item to suggest the dweller of the room at Stiles could find was a portrait propped up on the bedside table that he assumed was Derek’s side.

It was roughly the size of his palm, and the edges all faded. In it, three faces stared back, all children of varying age, all with pitch black hair. Stiles had held it closer to his face, trying to peer at the detail. A girl held a toddler in her arms, with a younger boy standing by her side. The picture was extremely simple, the size not allowing for much delicacy. But when he turned it around there were three scribbles along the back. They were all messy, the third one basically a line of random bumps and loops too long to be a legitimate name.

Laura Hale. Derek Hale. What he assumed to be Cora’s attempt to sign.

They must have been beautiful children.

It made Stiles then think to his own future children. Would Derek want many children, try to replace the family that he lost? Would they have his moles or Derek’s deep eyes? Would they love him or discard him the way Derek did?

The subject made him feel sick and he focused instead of pulling his clothes out of the trucks left pilled in the corner of the room for the rest of the night.

He attempted to stay up for Derek, but soon the candle had burned low and he felt himself drifting off. Eventually he gave in, atop the covers and fully dressed still. He’d half woken up again at the shifting feeling of someone crawling into the bed, then something settling over him before he was out again. When he woke up a blanket was tucked around him and Derek was gone again, the indent in the mattress and fleeting warmth the only indication he’d been there.

Stiles had taken breakfast in his bed, claiming a headache. He didn’t want another meal filled with awkward silences and Peter’s stare making him want to take a long bath and scrub every inch of himself. Maybe he could get used to loneliness.

Later, though, he found himself sick of the cloying scent of pine and honey, and he journeyed out of the room. The halls were just as confusing as before, and every few feet would be another servant or guard giving him a small bow with a mumbled ‘your highness’.

Finally he poked his head into what seemed to be the library. Stiles have a small gasp, neck cranking back to look at the ever stretching walls covered top to bottom with shelves of books and volumes. The library had been nothing to scoff at back home, but this seemed like it held every novel known to man. He could spend the rest of his life in there, just reading and whisking away to other narratives.

Stiles wandered past the shelves, skimming over all the tightly bound spines, some gathering a layer of dust and others worn soft until it looked like they might fall apart any moment. It was a wonderland.

In the center of the room was a clearing, comfortable couches and a large table scattered around an open hearth. Two figures huddled over one end of the table and when Stiles crept closer he recognized Cora Hale and a curly haired boy leaning over her shoulder to look at whatever she was writing.

He didn’t much feel like being under that hard stare again, and he made to turn away, but Cora’s head lifted up, chest inflating with a breath. Obviously scenting him, she turned to look right at him, not impressed.

“You’ve got to control yourself. You stink.”

Offended, Stiles didn’t know what to say. He’d had no complaints before, and, sure, it had been a day on the road since he took a bath but still he couldn’t be that bad.

“What she means,” the boy said, knocking her shoulder with his elbow and clear amusement in his voice, “is that your scent is really strong. We’re more used to softer scents around here.”

It was true, Stiles had realized that there were sort of muted scents coming off of everyone there, just softer.

“I can’t really help it.”

Cora rolled her eyes. “I can smell you half way across the castle. Invest in some herbs and perfumes before you go into heat. I don’t need to be a part of that.” 

Stiles coughed and goldilocks turned a bright shade of red. “I’m sure Derek will take care of whatever they need when the time comes,” he said, suddenly not really meeting Stiles’ eye.

Cora hummed, focus back on whatever she was writing. With a final flourish of her wrist, she rolled the parchment up, sealed it with a few drops of wax, and handed it to the boy. “All done Issac. Thank you.”

The boy- Issac now- took it in his hand, and to Stiles’ surprise, dropped a small kiss to her cheek before walking out, passing Stiles with a bright smile. Then it was simply him and Cora in the room, the crackling of the fire a welcome distraction for him.

“I should really—“

“Stiles,” she interrupted, no room to continue in her tone. “Come sit down.”

Well she certainly was Derek’s sister. Stiles awkwardly made his way to sit on one of the couches, facing in the heat of the fire and wincing as she sat down hard beside him.

“What do you think of my brother so far?”

Stiles had to think for a moment. He didn’t have much to go off so far. “He’s certainly… a gentleman. He’s been very nice so far.” Stretch the truth a little.

She wasn’t convinced. “My brother’s not looking for anything in the romantic aspect.”

“I couldn’t tell.” Stiles tried to laugh, but it quickly died off at the way she glared. 

“Do you know what happened to the last person he opened his heart too?”

Stiles just shook his head. It was hard to picture Derek in love honestly. Did he get all moony? Write poetry?

Cora was very blunt. “She ended up lighting half the castle on fire and killing our entire family.”

The breath went from Stiles’ lungs. The rumors hadn’t been very clear, and he’d just assumed that the fire had been an accident, maybe a candle left too close to a curtain that night or something of that nature. But deliberate murder, by someone Derek had loved?

“So you need to understand that his trust isn’t something that is very freely given anymore. And that if you ever get it, it isn’t something to be taken lightly.”

“I-I wouldn’t dream of it. I just want to try to make the best of this for everyone.”

Cora didn’t speak for a moment, just looking at him and her head cocked a little bit to the side, like she was listening for something. Apparently it was to her satisfaction, because she gave a sharp nod and relaxed a little bit into the chair.

“So, who was that boy? Issac?”

Cora’s face softened a little bit. “He’s the court almoner. We’re courting. Have been for a few months now. He’s not rich himself, and only a beta, so some of the court advisors are furious.” She gave a soft laugh. “They think I should be used as some sort of bargaining chip instead. Let’s not waste the last Hale alpha, they’re basically saying.”

It was a old argument that Stiles had heart enough times. Alpha and omega pairs were the ideal. Beta’s were highly valued in society for they’re levelheadedness and the way they were generally unaffected by pheromones, but when it came to mating they were general left amongst themselves. The weren’t as fertile as omegas and alphas, and for a male beta to mate with a female alpha, conception would be incredibly hard.

“What’s Derek think about it all?”

Cora smiled. “One of the conditions to marrying you was that I am free to marry as I choose.”

“I’m glad some good is coming out of this.”

She pressed her lips together tightly. “You don’t know that just yet.”

Stiles wasn’t entirely sure what she was referring to, but then she stood and he followed her lead.

“It’s nice to see you're not a complete insufferable idiot then.”

Stiles had to laugh then. “And you’re not a spoiled brat then.”

She smirked. “I’ll see you at the ball then tonight, guest of honor. I’ve got other more thrilling things to deal with.”

With a shallow bow more out of jest than actually propriety, she stepped away. Then, just before walking out, she stopped, turning back. “Stiles.”

“Hmm?” Stiles looked up from the random novel he’d began to inspect from the table.

She paused for a moment. “Wear red. He really likes the color red.”

—————————————————————

Stiles had only seen Derek once all day. When venturing out to the balcony of their shared chambers, he realized that it overlooked the courtyard where the soldiers were training.

In the center of a circle of soldiers, all with shinning blade drawn, stood the fabled warrior king, looking incredibly calm and collected. His shirt was off in the heat of the midday sun, sweat making each rippling muscle glisten. The sight of it was enough to ignite a coiling spark in Stiles’ belly, remembering the way that solid physique had felt pressing him down to their wedding bed.

Suddenly the dark skinned guard Stiles recognized from earlier made the first thrust forward, igniting all the others into action, including Erica he saw. At the realization that Derek held nothing in his hands to protect himself, in contrast to the swords and chainmail the guards used as they fought, Stiles was completely enraptured by the brawl.

Each swing of steel was like a carefully choreographed dance between the seven of them Stiles counted, and it was obvious that they were all exceptionally skilled swordsmen and women, but as each of his heartbeats raced by, Derek took them each down one by one. By the time four of them lay panting in the grass, Derek managed to relive one of them on her blade and simply took the last three down with a few simple swipes.

It was magnificent.

When it was all over, Derek thrust the sword into the ground, leaning lightly on it and tilting his head back to soak in the sun. He looked like it had taken barely any effort on his behalf.

The spark grew to burning embers.

Suddenly, Derek opened his eyes again, and even from the distance, Stiles could see how they landed on his, keeping a steady gaze. Then Derek gave a small nod of his head and Stiles squeaked, suddenly spurred to turn and run as graciously into the room as he could. It wasn’t spying, and it certainly wasn’t anything secretive, but still he felt shame burning into his cheeks.

He passed the next hour or so by taking a long soak in the clawed ivory tub that was hidden behind a room divider, enjoying the soothing heat soaking into his body. Oils stood on a table next to the tub, though when Stiles brought each to his nose, each was all but scentless. It reminded him of Cora’s remarks how strong his scent, contrasting to how in his father’s kingdom is was customary to enhance one’s scent by using certain oils and soaps that emulated it.

Stiles stayed soaking until all ten fingers and toes and completely pruned up and the water was somewhat filthy while he was completely clean. He stepped out just as a timid knock came from the door. Stiles grabbed a fluffy robe from the wardrobe, and went to open the door himself as he wrapped it around himself.

A girl, almond eyes bright and a beautiful smile spread across her lips, stood on the other side in a silky floral dress. She had to be right around Stiles’ own age. Lacing her hands together in front of herself, she gave a deep bow before bouncing back up.

“Good evening your highness! My name is Kira Yukimura. I’ve been given to you as a lady-in-waiting and to assist you to prepare for tonight.”

Stiles was stunned by the blinding personality after the subdued nature of everyone else he’d encountered thus far, but it was more than welcomed.

“Please, call me Stiles,” he said as he opened the door wider to let her in.

She bound in, a serving boy dragging in a new truck behind her. “The ball in your honor is being held tonight. That must be fun!” She opened the truck as she spoke, and Stiles was shocked to see beautiful fabrics of all sorts of colors and patterns folded neatly inside. “And such nice new things to wear! I must say I’m jealous!”

“Where did these come from?” Stiles picked up a tunic from the top of one pile, admiring the soft dark blue material between his fingers. “I didn’t order anything new.”

“Derek had the seamstresses make you a new wardrobe befitting a king consort. Not that you’re old one was awful! I’m sure it was lovely!” The girl was rambling, something Stiles could sympathize with, watching her try to climb out of a hole she herself was filling. “They’re just more nice things to wear! They’re very good as you can see. She and her girls worked all day and night to ge these done. Maybe he just wanted to give you something nice.”

Stiles went to the mirror and held the tunic against his chest, surprised by how it looked like it might fit him perfectly. “How did they get the sizes right? No one asked or measured me.”

“Like I said, they’re very good.”

Stiles turned to her, pulling the clothes out to spread them on the bedspread. When she saw him looking she smiled, a stray lock of inky black hair falling from the tight, elaborate braided bun with two jaded pins through it into her face.

“So, Kira, I hope it’s not rude to ask, but how’d you get to be my lady? I picked my last one in my father’s court and I was under the impression I might get to do the same again.”

Kira’s brows furrowed and she looked slightly concerned. “Well, if you don’t like me you could always change your lady any time you wished. You are the consort. I think Derek thought it would be best if he chose first, since you really didn’t know anyone yet. I was new to Beacon Hills myself years ago, but I’ve learned all I need to so I’d be the best to help with your transition. Have I done something to upset you? I mean, I know I can talk a lot. I can’t really help it. Words just keep spilling out of my mouth when I open it. Like now.”

She bit her lower lip and Stiles had to laugh. “No don’t worry. It was just a question. But you’re not native to Beacon Hills?”

Kira shook her head. “My mother is Noshiko Yukimura, a diplomat and an active member of the king’s advisors. We moved here when I was about ten, so I had plenty of time to adjust and learn.”

“I can see why you might be one of the better people to keep by my side.”

Kira beamed and stood up from her crouch, tucking the loose lock of hair behind her ear again. “Don’t worry your highness, you’ll be up to speed in no time!”

“Don’t count your eggs just yet. I was still a sort of problem from my father. I little too hyperactive for everyone’s liking.” That just earned him a laugh.

“I think I can see you fitting in just fine.” She gestured back to the clothes lying out from them to see. “Now, which do you think you’ll prefer to make your grand entrance?”

“I think I like the dark red one.”

—————————————————————

Music played in full blast, entwined with the laughter and blurring talking filling the cavernous ball room. Stiles stood just out of sight of the room, on the overlook leading to the grand staircase. He wrung his hands, foot tapping and itching to pace back and forth to burn his agitation and rip the crown from his head. It was tradition apparently for him to appear for the first time to his subjects on his own, so Derek was already somewhere down below, waiting to see his induction.

Footsteps sounded behind him, and he turned to see Cora, finely dressed in black and gold. The final accessory was the look of irritation on her face.

“You’re taking too long. This whole thing is for you, so Derek would be pretty sore if you never showed up and just stood up here like a kid who’s supposed to be in bed.”

He threw his hands down to his side, jaw aching from where he clenched it. “I am going down! I just need a minute.”

Cora’s eyes narrowed. “Then wipe that stupid look off your face and go on! You’re just gonna go down and dance a little and have everyone fawn over you. That’s not very scary if you ask me.”

“What if they don’t like me!” Stiles burst out. “He’s this great king they all look up to and I’m… just not.”

Cora pressed her lips together, but her entire demeanor shifted a little bit. “You’re their king Stiles. They’ll love you for who you are, and to the few that don’t, well, damn them.”

Stiles sighed. He was done with the pressure, the expectations and the stress.

“And,” Cora said hesitantly, looking as if the words were stuck to the roof of her mouth. “If you ever need any kind of help, that’s what family’s for, to help. And you’ve got us now.”

Stiles felt like he wanted to hug her, but he suspected that any attempt to do so would only end with her biting his head off. So he just gave a small smile, that she returned with a smirk and a surprisingly strong push.

“Now go on before everyone drinks themselves stupid.”

The herald, on cue gave the announcement of his presence and Stiles found himself stepping out into sight. The court below went silent, the musicians screeching to a halt, and Stiles found himself beginning to sweat again. There were at least two hundred pairs of eyes on him.

Then the ones that mattered found him, green gaze solid on Stiles until his knees felt a little weak. Slowly making his way down the stairs, he never once broke eye contact with Derek, walking straight up to him as he’d been instructed to start the first dance of the night. The crowd around them backed up and Derek’s arms found their way to Stiles’ hand and waist, just the right amount of weight.

The music started a slow crescendo, and they began the twirl of their dance.

“You look nice,” Derek murmured lowly. His eyes finally broke from Stiles’ to rake up and down his body, admiring the perfectly cut suit with a heat that made Stiles want to blush.

“I could say the same.” The dark suit made Derek appear like a god gracing them with his presence, the hard shape of hi, pressed against Stiles as they turned round and round with precise steps.

To be honest, Stiles was surprised that he wasn’t tripping over his own feet already, letting Derek lead them smoothly in their arc.

“You weren’t even here the past hour and your dance card is already a mile long. I hope your shoes don’t hurt.”

Stiles had to laugh nervously. “I don’t think it’s my feet I have to be worrying about. I’ve had some pretty nasty incidents to date.”

Derek raised one thick brow, a dark sheen crossing his face. “You’ve had many people asking you to dance? Suitors I imagine.”

Stiles felt himself flush a little red. “At first maybe. But most were just at it for my status. I haven’t had many people genuinely court me. I learned pretty quick how that felt and turned them all away.”

“So you haven’t had someone actually intend to mate you?” The interest in Derek’s voice made Stiles feel uneasy, almost ashamed.

“No. It’s my _curse_ to be undesirable. Maybe it would help if I could keep my mouth shut long enough. I’m eighteen, not far from my nineteenth year, and I’m married now, yet I’ve never felt a single kiss that wasn’t a mothering one on my cheek.” Unless you count the experiment he’d had with Scott, just to see what it was like. Scott had been much to overexcited and wet in the single peck, and they’d both leapt apart right after, gagging and wiping their mouths with the back of their sleeves. Stiles didn't count it.

Derek looked thoughtful as the initial song gave is last lingering notes. As Stiles made to pull away to bow, the arm around him gave a tug that sent him towards Derek, caught off guard. Derek leaned down to caught his lips in a short, chaste kiss. It lasted no more than a couple seconds, but when he pulled away Stiles was shell shocked, staring at him wide eyed with his mouth left open.

"There." Derek said, looking whole unaffected as he let him go, though his scent lingered in Stiles' nostrils. "Now you can mark that off your list."

Then he gave his shallow bow and walked away without further word, leaving Stiles still motionless in the center of the floor that was slowing filling up with couples for the next pair dance, their eyes darting between the two monarchs and excited whispers leaving their lips in the silence before the next cue struck up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your kudos! Feel free to leave comments as well!! Feedback always gets me really riled up to write!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the longer wait guys!! I got really sick over the weekend and couldn't find it in me to write much, but I hope you enjoy this chapter as my apology!  
> (edit): hey guys, sorry if you got double notifications or anything, just something went wacky and i had to reupload this chapter

It was like some out of body experience. Derek had no idea what had come over him to lean down and kiss his husband like that. 

It hadn’t been anything brutish or explicit, thank god. Just a few seconds of a light press of their lips together, more than suitable for public crowd. 

But Stiles’ lips had been so soft against his, his surprise leaving his mouth parted slightly, exhaling hot breath into Derek’s own mouth. When Derek had pulled back, those amber eyes had been impossibly large, looking at him with a sparkling shock that resonated in the rosy glow to his cheeks. 

He had just looked so perfect. His skin nearly glowing and each visible mole only making Derek’s fingers itch to trace constellations between the marks that he knew covered even more skin hidden from view. The red on his cheeks excited the wolf in him, triggering the urge to pounce and take his beautiful prey, the visible scarring of his mating bite making him nearly rumble with satisfaction with his claiming. 

When they danced, Derek couldn’t help but note how well they together, Stiles only a few inches shorter so that he just barely had to lift his chin to look him eye to eye. They slowly turned in their circle, the music a sweet melody. 

Maybe it was the scent. Thank god the abrasive overpowering sugariness was gone, Derek felt as though he might have caught a toothache just by being near it too much. In it’s place was the natural scent of the omega, a softer sweetness like cookies being baked down in the kitchens and a lazy breeze brushing past the gardens through an open door. 

It no longer reminded him of the chemical sour Kate’s fraud scent had hinted at to the delicacy of his nose. 

The conversation was surprisingly open and flowing between them as Derek led, Stiles’ small candor pushed Derek to action. He filled with pride at the idea of his husband being thoroughly untouched, that no other alpha had touched his mate.

Then he had just gone on and stole a kiss, taking that first kiss for himself. 

As the music roused to its final notes, Derek stepped back, schooling his face to the same small smile he graced for just for public events like this. A bow at the waist, and then he was walking away, crowd parting for him once he reached the circle where they had gathered around to watch the new couple.

Why? _Why had he done that?_

He wanted to groan and pull on his own hair, but instead he settled for sitting in his throne overseeing all the festivities. He saw Stiles, still looking a bit unsettled as another gentleman, Lord Theo Raeken he recognized, led him to the next festive dance. 

A dark chuckle came from beside him, and Derek turned to his uncle leaning leisurely on the side of the throne, eyes watching the contained cluster of movement on the center floor. 

“What a lovely little display of affection for the boy.”

Derek only looked on, watching the way Stiles’ head tipped back as he laughed at something Lord Raeken had said that must have been _truly_ hilarious. 

“Don’t go lamenting your weakness. It’s the bond itself,” Peter continued on. “The age old way of making sure that alpha don’t leave their omegas after bonding and sullying them. It induces and amplifies both your emotions.” He sounded much too smug for Derek’s liking. 

“He’s not all together a bad mate. Better than I was expecting.”

Peter’s faced morphed into a mockingly pitying frown. “Really? I’ve had my concerns, considering the two of you have been mated for three days now and the boy still smells disappointing unlike you. If you can’t find it in yourself to stick it in the boy, I’m sure there are many other that could be easily persuaded—“

He was cut off a a deep, threatening growl, the few people closest to the steps to the throne turning worriedly or excitedly to the king and his uncle. Derek closed his eyes to calm the eyes he could feel glowing what he knew would be vivd red in his sudden rage at the thought. 

The overflow of instinctual _mine_ was ridiculous, he knew that, but it was like his wolf was pushed stronger by Stiles. By the bond. A few deep breaths before he reopened his eyes.

“It’s well taken care of, uncle. Don’t worry yourself.”

The last turn of the song ended, and yet another noble was waiting for a dance with the new king consort. 

“See to it that it is. It would be a shame to see such a handsome thing go to waste.”

Derek didn’t feel to dignify it with a response, resting his chin on a fisted hand supported by the throne’s arm. Stiles caught his gaze for a moment, head turning to keep the connection for a few seconds longer before he was turned around.

“It is, thought it’s not any of your concern.”

He stood from the throne, making his way forward and barely acknowledging the shallow nod of respect his uncle sourly gave. A cup of wolfsbane laced wine was offered his way, which he gladly took, leisurely making his way through the crowd while unobtrusively avoiding any more conversation besides gentle pleasantries.

His attentions were otherwise occupied. 

 

—————————————————————

 

The whole night devolved to a whirlwind for Stiles. 

He spent every moment up on his feet, spinning across the floor led by different alphas and beta  or making introductions to all sorts of characters in the court. On so many occasions he caught Derek looking at him, eyes almost hungry or intensely curious. It was a startling change by the fact that nearly a single day ago he barely spoke or looked at him. 

Stiles drowned his overworked mind with the wine Kira handed to him with several cautions. _Take it slow,_ she had said. The first sip Stiles took was surprisingly strong and he devolved into a fit of hard coughs, making Kira laugh at the shade of red he turned to match his coat. 

He only managed to down four more goblets through the evening, spurred on by how easily the rest of the guest were drinking the spiced wine. 

By the time the candles were nearing a low, Stiles stumbled his way through a quadrille with five other couples, Lord Whittemore across from him looking painfully unimpressed. 

A hand wrapped around his upper arm, and he looked up to see Derek, his amusement displayed in the curve to his lips. “I think it’s time for our guest of honor to retire for the night.”

Stiles pouted as he was pulled away, spotting Erica looking ravishing in a deeper burgundy gown and flashing him a smile and a wink. Kira met them at the foot of the stairs, smiling as she took Stiles from Derek's arms, laughing at his whine.

“I’m feeling perfectly fine, I want to stay longer!”

“I told you to take it easy on the wine Stiles.”

Derek’s hand stayed a moment longer, heavily resting on Stiles’ shoulder. “Go up and get some rest. I’ll be up soon.”

Stiles quieted down for a moment, giving in to Kira as she pulled him away. The whole way up the stairs he kept his body turned to Derek down below them further and further down, until the flat floor of the balcony soon shielded him from view. 

He yawned suddenly, no longer pulling back away from Kira as they walked, instead leaning a bit on her. Once out of the excited energy of the party, Stiles’ eyes were feeling as heavy as if coins were weighing them down. 

Once they finally reached the chambers, Kira gave him a small push towards the bed, ending with him falling to it in a heap, humming contently at the warm, plush comforter. She attempted to make more small talk as she basically wrestled the clothes from him, made harder by his uncoordinated attempts to help that only ended in flailing limbs. 

“The wine can’t be that strong. We’ve got to get you your own brew,” Kira said with a huff after finally being able to pull his nightshift over his head. 

Stiles sat back against the headboard, pulling the book he’d left on the nightstand into his lap. “Consider lesson learned.”

Kira left a burning candle beside him on the table as she left was a wave and promises to see him the next day. “Just try to sleep it off.”

Stiles tried his best to stay up to see Derek off to bed, but the alcohol was swift with its affect and as hard as he struggled not to, he only realized he had fallen asleep with the book open on his lap when the door to the chambers opened with a creak. He looked up to see Derek walking in, frowning at the screech of the hinges 

“I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Stiles smiled sleepily, patting the bed beside him. “I was doing a poor job of staying awake for you.”

Derek grunted, turning to the dresser and beginning to strip the clothes from his body. Even though he’d very clearly already seen his husband in the nude, Stiles turned away, feeling the need to clear his throat to perhaps distract himself. Quickly, it was over, and Derek was slipping beside him, laying flat on his bed. 

But the pine scent of him only proved to wake Stiles up further, and he sat for a moment, fingers playing with themselves before a thought burst from between his lips. “Why’d you kiss me?”

Derek clearly went stiff beneath the sheet, still for a moment before turning and rising onto on elbow to look at him. 

The nearly extinguished candle threw all the shadows of the room to the extremes, making Derek’s eyes look even darker and his beard fathomless. Stiles could remember the exact, slightly scratchy feeling of it against the soft skin of his cheeks in the few seconds they kissed. It wasn’t a necessarily bad thing.

“Did you not want to?”

Stiles resisted the urge to backtrack and make his quiet apologizes and end the conversation. Maybe it would be good for a change to discuss things. They were mates after all, lives spend together until they died. A conversation couldn’t hurt. 

“It’s not that—“ Stiles bit his lip, trying to think of his words before they jumped out of his throat. “I just wasn’t expecting it. Or anything close to that. I mean, you haven’t exactly been forthcoming up to that point.”

Derek’s face was carefully blank, eyes watching his. “I thought it might have been strange to have never kissed your own husband after three days of being mated.”

“We’ve also never _actually_ mated, but that’s not a problem.”

Now one thick brow raised. “Would you rather I forced myself onto you? Because you obviously didn’t enjoy it much the last time we tried.”

“No, that’s not what I meant and you know it. But, it's just, nothing’s been conventional up until this point, has it? Arranged marriages are common enough, sure, but usually the couple has a little time to get to know each other a little. We just jumped into this.”

A rushed sigh came from Derek, pushing himself up further. “It’s too late to change anything about that for now. I just came to a realization that if we’re gonna be stuck in this, might swell try to see through it together.”

There was a pregnant pause for a moment. 

Then. “Is that what you wanted with your marriage before this? Some sort of lovely courtship first?”

Stiles shrugged. “Who wouldn’t?”

“Then I’ll court you.”

“What?” For a second Stiles thought that Derek was trying to pull a joke over on him, but his tone and face were entirely serious. 

“If that’s what would have made you feel better with this whole thing, then I’ll go through the steps.”

“You’d do that for me?”

Derek gave a roll of his eyes and shifted to lay back down. “If it’ll help things.”

“Do I get a kiss goodnight then too, honey pie?”

Derek snorted, rolling to his side away from him. “Good night Stiles. Get some sleep.”

Stiles leaned over to blow out the flickering dim light of the candle beside him, before settling back in the firm mattress with a smile refusing to leave his face. That was all that either of them could ask for, to try at liking each other. 

“Goodnight Derek,” he said softly. 

There was no response, but he was fine with that. 

 

—————————————————————

 

Stiles sat at a small desk he found in an alcove of the library, light streaming from the large stained glass window and making the dust visibly dance through the air as he wrote a letter to his father. Just as he added a curved script of his signature, Issac cleared his throat from behind him, a warm smile on his face and his hands folded behind his back. 

“Oh, hello Issac,” Stiles said, turning half around in his seat. 

“I have a message for you.” Issac took a step forward, one arm extending out to hand him a letter. “It’s from an admirer, I’m supposed to say.”

Stiles cocked his head for a moment, before taking the envelope, taking a letter opener from the drawer of the desk and slicing the top open with ease. 

Inside the script was one that he was coming to recognize as Derek’s eased hand. 

 

_Dear Stiles,_

_Perhaps you’d be up for joining me for a bite? The view is quite worth it, I assure you. Please do me the honor._

_From,_

_~A suitor_

 

Stiles gave a small laugh and tucked it back in the envelope. Whatever Derek’s promise to him, he’d been taking the formality of courtship seriously the two weeks. 

First elaborate bouquets of flowers kept showing up with Stiles’ name on them. Lovely things that Stiles couldn’t help but mourn each bunch when they began to wilt a few days later. 

Then came a few small gifts, each hidden in a spot that Stiles would only found by accident, though the S carved on the top of the wooden boxes made no mistake of who it was intended for. His favorite was the thin chain necklace with a delicate golden locket on it, and when he opened it, while the spots were bare and ready for tiny pictures to fill them, the backs were already decorated with surprisingly elaborate engravings. Each family emblem. A fox for the Stilinski line, curled in on itself and looking distinctly clever, while a great wolf, head reared back in an impressive howl, faced opposite to it. 

That had only left his neck when he bathed, so not to ruin the precious metal. 

“I accept. I’m guessing that he won’t be waiting for me in the great hall?”

Issac shook his head, curls falling into his eyes. “Not quite. Follow me, your highness.”

Stiles nodded, tucking the letter from Derek and the one to his father in the drawer of the desk. His hands smoothed down the simple tunic he wore, standing up and gesturing for the beta to lead the way. 

It was a short journey, and soon Stiles found himself outside, the sun warming every inch of skin visible. The gardens were beautiful, but Stiles hadn’t found the time yet to go exploring quite too deeply through them. He could look out from the upper castle windows and see an expansive field of blooming flowers and mazes of hedges. 

Issac, thank god, knew exactly where to head though, and with each turn Stiles marveled at the impossibly bright colors and sweet scents. When they stopped at a seemingly dead end, Stiles looked around, quite confused until Issac reached out a pulled back a curtain of what had appeared to be a solid wall of vines to a clearing. 

“Enjoy your meal,” he said with a smile. 

Stiles only hesitated for a moment, before he ducked down slightly and passed through, turning to watch the vines swing back to their place before looking around the clearing. 

It was absolutely beautiful. Though a rather small area, no larger than a peasant’s own home garden, a small pond bubbled on one side and lush green grass decorated the ground, interrupted only by bright daisies or other small florals. The clearing hosted one large tree to the opposite side, offering a refuge from the ever bright sunlight. 

“Oh wow,” breathy words slipped past his lips as he turned in a slow circle, taking it all in. In the shade offered by the tree, there was a blanket laid down with what looked like a simple meal laid out. When he got closer to inspect it, he noticed a carving in the wood of the trunk. His fingers reached out to trace it. 

**T.H. + W.L.**

“It really is quite something isn’t it.”

Stiles thought he gave himself whiplash for a moment with how fast he snapped around in surprise. He could have sworn his heart had stopped for a moment when he saw Derek standing only a step or two behind him, the usual smirk on his face. When he could finally begin to breath again, he punched Derek’s shoulder, though it seemed to hurt his own knuckles more than it began to hurt Derek at all. 

“Are you trying to kill me via heart attack? Is that your plan?”

Derek rolled his eyes and walked past him to settle down on the blanket. “I’ve been waiting for you, and I’m not sure about you, but I’m starved.”

Forever the master of comedic timing, Stiles’ stomach gave a large growl. Instead of saying anything, he sat down opposite from Derek and took the sandwich he offered. For a moment, they sat in silence only interrupted by birds off chirping somewhere. It wasn’t unusual, and it had become something they happened to do quite often. Stiles and Derek sitting in the same room, doing their own tasks or duties, not speaking words to each other for hours, but comfortably aware of each other’s presence. A few times, Stiles would look up from whatever he was reading or writing, just in time to see Derek glancing over to him at the same time. Their eyes would catch for a moment or two, Stiles would smile, then they’d both go back to their tasks. 

“What is this place?”

Derek’s chewing slowed down, before he swallowed. “A refuge from responsibility. My mother showed it to me and my sisters when we would reach a certain age. She found it when she was a young girl. It became a special place.”

Stiles’ eyes fell on the carving again and Derek knew exactly what he was thinking.

 “My mother and my father would sneak here for time together without people’s eyes on them.” He cleared his throat. “I thought we might do the same.”

Stiles reached over and covered Derek’s hand with his own. “I’m honored you decided to share this place with me.”

This was Stiles’ favorite version of Derek. True, the few times he’d seen Derek in a semblance of a rage, it had been dangerously exciting to the point where he’d been almost scared of slicking up a bit. But this side of Derek, soft and vulnerable, was so sweet. Everything, from his body language to his eyes were less guarded and open, and so much more beautiful. It came out in rare, quiet talks, or when as a king when greeting a small child exuding innocence when he held court. At times like this, Stiles didn’t see how he could ever have been scared of such a man. 

The corner of Derek’s lip lifted, the small half smiles Stiles’ loved. 

They spent two or three hours at that point talking and getting to know the person they were tied to better. The shadows shifted around them with the sun’s start down from the annex of the sky, and Stiles ended up with his head resting in Derek’s lap as the man leaned again the tree trunk. The hand in his hair lightly scratched, and it felt like heaven.

“Wait a minute!” Stiles couldn’t help but contain his laughs, try as hard as he may. “So you had bunny teeth? How cute!”

Derek rolled his eyes, but his full smile betrayed him. “I just had to grow into them. I knew I shouldn’t have told you.”

“No wait! I think I can still see them if I look hard enough—“ Grinning, Stiles popped up, trying to get to hold Derek still as he peered at his surprisingly white teeth. 

It turned into a baby match of wrestling, mostly because of Stiles’ clearly inferior strength because, really, how he match against a man who looked like he was crafted well enough to hand wrestle with even the gods and come out on top. Without any sweat, Derek managed to throw Stiles over his lap onto his back on the blanket, pinning down his wrists with a huff when he shrieked and tried to claw at him halfheartedly. 

They looked at each other for a moment, before Stiles burst out laughing so hard it brought a small tear to his eyes. Derek watched him, amused, until he calmed down. 

“My god,” Stiles said, eyeing the impressively thick arms on display. “Were you just created by a mad scientist? You can’t be real.”

“I sometimes have my thoughts as to how mad Deaton may or may not be, but I can assure you he didn’t have a hand in creating me.”

Stiles giggled, almost feeling high off of his good mood. 

Derek looked down at him, smiling but somewhat intently. His scent was wrapping around Stiles, almost intoxicating. It had become more and more like a drug to Stiles the longer they were together. 

Then Derek surged forward, his nose nestled in Stiles’ neck below his jaw. He took a deep breath in, and Stiles let out a surprised sound at the feeling of his stubble lightly scratching against the mating mark. 

They hadn’t done anything remotely sexual since the wedding night beside the chaste kiss the night of the ball. This was like a fire awakening in Stiles’ belly again, his hands curling into fists to find something to ground himself as to not turn into a whimpering mess. Any feeling from his alpha felt electrifying, and clearly the effect was not lost of Derek. 

Finally Derek pulled himself back, chest heaving up and down as he pushed himself off and laid down next to Stiles. He squeezed his eyes shut. “I’m sorry.”

Stiles blinked up at the sun filtering through the gaps of the leaves for a moment, dazed, and then pushed himself up. He looked at Derek, utterly motionless, and after a second of deliberation he spoke. 

“You know,” the words were slow, like they were stuck in his throat. “You’ve been courting me for two weeks now. A-And you’ve done a wonderful job. I thought maybe, you’d like to kiss me? Not like the one in the courtroom. A real kiss.”

He suddenly was turned ridged when green eyes cracked open, narrowed almost suspiciously. The silence was a little scary, and when Derek sat up, gaze unnerving, Stiles almost began to regret it. 

When he took the breath to try to erase his words, Derek leaned him and pressed his lips against Stiles. At first, it was almost exactly how Stiles remembered the last one. Slightly chapped lips against him, not pressing forward but very much there. Then Derek’s hand wrapped around to the nape of his neck, and the kiss deepened when he tilted his head. It was much more sensual now, his mouth moving against Stiles, leading him on. Stiles couldn’t help the small moan at the feeling of Derek’s tongue against his parted lips. 

This kiss itself wasn’t too long, Derek pulled away again after a moment, but its impact was much more severe. His eyes were bright as he looked down at Stiles, who felt completely awestruck by it all. 

“A good start,” he mused, thankfully this time looking plenty affected by the kiss. 

“Uh huh.” Stiles nodded his agreement, looking down at Derek’s lips again that looked perfectly inviting, but when he tried to lean forward, Derek only allowed for a brief peck before mournfully pulling away for the third time.

“Let’s not get too caught up yet,” he said, the half smile back though his eyes kept flitting between Stiles’ own and his mouth. “I’ve got to head back for training. I’ve been gone too long now, and lord know some of those alphas and betas need all the help they can get.”

He stood up, and held his arms down to help house Stiles back up to his feet. They made way back through the gardens, Stiles suddenly finding himself a little incapable of meeting his alpha’s gaze. They stopped just outside the entrance to the castle and when Derek reached up to flick a piece of grass from Stiles’ hair, he blushed furiously. Curse pale skin. 

“I’ll see you for dinner, alright?” Derek said, his voice suddenly soft, like he was scared of spooking Stiles further. 

Stiles’ gaze finally turned up to him and he smiled lightly, before surging up to his toes to plant a kiss on his cheek. “Don’t hurt them too badly.”

That bought him an exhale of breath Stiles would gladly proclaim to be a small laugh, and then he straighten and seemed to morph in to the regular Derek normally feared by all. 

As he walked away Stiles watched him, fingers reaching up to toy with the locket around his neck. The first few days of his marriage had been a scary, stressful nightmare, locked in a marriage with a man he knew nothing about. But now that man was showing a lighter, kinder and caring side, and Stiles found himself beginning to feel glad. This was a man he could really love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your kudos! Feel free to leave comments as well!! Feedback always gets me really riled up to write!  
> ALSO, we'll be getting a familiar face back to stay next chapter!!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there is a small bit of violence in this chapter, a bit of threatened non-con, but not too much. It will be easy to skip that section if a person so desires.  
> But in happy news, someone is back from an earlier chapter! Only one person guessed correctly in the comments!

The door to the bedchamber swung open and Derek strode through, swearing and raging at no one particularly. Stiles looked up from the book he’d been reading on the bed, on his stomach and his chin resting comfortably in his hands. Derek didn’t seem to even realize he was there for a few moments, pacing back and forth with such a burning agitation, until Stiles pushed himself up to sit back on his legs, worry marking his face. 

“Derek? What’s wrong?”

Derek’s eyes snapped up to him, but he didn’t pacing. He raised a clenched fist and Stiles noticed a small piece of parchment crumpled in his grip. “The Argent forces,” he finally spat out, throwing to paper to land in front of Stiles. “They attacked another village, trying to get further and further inward. We thought we had them under control.”

Stiles carefully reached forward and smoothed out the paper to read it. It was short and to the point, no need to bother with formalities with this kind of message. When Stiles reached the mention of the number of those found dead his fingers began a faint tremor. 

That was a high number of innocents slaughtered. 

“What are you going to do?”

Derek didn’t answer, looking down to the floor as he walked back and back across the floor, hand coming up to his hair like he wanted to tug it out by the root but settled for just running through it over and over. 

“Do you think they’re going to attack again?”

The lack of response from Derek began to really freak Stiles out, used to his calm and collect husband, making you think he knew every details of the situation when he knew less than squat. His breaths started rushing, shorter and almost painful. Stiles just began to envision the village, quiet and quaintly living on their lives until one early morning troops, carrying a banner of a bloodied beast’s head atop a spike, stream from the cover of the forests, steel and sharp tipped arrows drawn. The blood flowing in lazy rivers down the dirt roads, mothers screaming from their dead husbands struck down trying to defend them and for children laying like rag dolls before their own deadly hit. 

_No survivors found._

For the first time Stiles came to the overdue realization that he was at war, he was the monarch of two countries now both dependent on him and Derek to lead them to victory and survival. The fight had already been waged for years already, but Stiles and his father had only been bystanders thus far, hearing through word of mouth the horrors each country committed, the horrible acts in the name of revenge and duty. But now this was his home, his people, and with his marriage and joining of the two countries, his father’s kingdom was enemy by default of the Argents and would become free territory for attack. They had always been peaceful people, no where near prepared to hold themselves against the might of the Argent’s war revolved army. They would easily be defeated over and over again if attacked. 

He came back to himself being gentle cradled and rocked back the forth, Derek softly pressing his head to his solid chest. “Breath Stiles, please. Time it to my heart.”

Stiles closed his eyes, only focusing to the faint and constant thump of his heartbeat, the reminder that he was even alive. After a few moments, though shaky, his breath was no longer ripped from his throat and he weakly pushed back a little, inhaling deeply through his nose to settle himself. He still sat in Derek’s lap, his husband’s arms now only loosely wrapped around his waist, and his hands settled on Derek’s shoulders, looking into that strong, concern laced green gaze. 

“What are you going to do Derek?”

He sighed, his thumb softly rubbing a soothing circle in the dip of Stiles’ waist. The action was so small, but it still had Stiles fighting the urge to burrow his face in Derek’s chest and erase the realizations of horror and death from him mind. 

“We can’t just let this go by without any response. It’ll only encourage them more and we can’t just leave the next village at their mercy.”

Stiles bit his lips, not wanting to ask the next question but needing the answer. “And would you be going out to fight?”

Again he was met with silence, and Derek gently pushed him off his lap, standing to resume his pacing again. 

So his answer was very clear.

“When are you leaving?”

Derek wouldn’t look at him. “We leave immediately. I just came up here to grab a few items before getting the men ready.”

Now instead of the panic that had settled over him earlier, Stiles felt an anger begin to boil in his blood. “You were just going to leave, off to fight, without saying so much as a goodbye if I hadn’t been here?”

The alpha’s eyes snapped up, guilt more than evident, but Stiles only grew more irate, snapping up and glaring at his husband, arms crossed stiffly. Things were progressing wonderfully between them over the weeks, Stiles finding himself relaxing in his new home the more Derek opened up to him and they came to care for each other. But this made Stiles furious, the lack to regard. 

“You’re going off to fight a battle that, no matter how good you are and how much your enemy fears you, you might not come back from and you couldn’t bother to think that maybe it would be worth the time to say goodbye?” His face flushed with his tirade. “That hurts more than it should, but it does! The fact that you do not even consider me that important!”

Derek’s face grew more and more regretful with each word he spoke, and by the end he was reaching for Stiles again, mouth opened but no words coming out as he realized what a grave mistake the admittance was. 

“I thought it would be easier to just—“

“To just what? Leave me to find out you’d left from a servant or, god forbid, your uncle and just be left to pray and worry myself sick that you’d come back in one piece? Oh thank you for that, your forethought is impeccable.”

Then Derek’s expression darkened, scent growing bitter enough to make Stiles wrinkle his nose, and his hand that had been hanging between them dropped to his side in a fist. “I’m sorry, but I should get going. I’ll be back soon Stiles.” His words were short and clipped, and then he turned sharply to leave. 

Stiles fumed for a few moments more, anger driving his thoughts, but then once the heat cooled, he wasn’t so sure anymore than he’d acted with the ration he should have. It still hadn’t been easy to be in a now home, and as prepared as he was for the throne and a crown of his own, it was still unnerving to suddenly go from standing next to his father as men and women turned to him for guidance to having those eyes instead look to him. The stress had quietly mounted further and further, until he felt his back was going to break from it. The stony grip he’d had on his own elbows when he’d crossed his arms turned into more of a self embrace, feeling very alone again. 

Derek hadn’t even taken whatever he’d come to get. 

After another moment of deliberation, Stiles went to the balcony, leaning a bit over the edge more to look into the courtyard. A brigade was nearly organized in rows, standing at attention and readied. It wasn’t hard to spot Derek, atop a strong stallion, and discussing something with the other leaders gather around him. They came to some sort of conclusion and Derek dismissed them with a single nod of his head. Then one stepped forward and gave a loud, unintelligible shout from how far Stiles was and in an instance the whole collection of soldiers snapped to further attention and began filing out in a measured march.

Stiles just watched Derek, riding straight backed and proud. For a moment he just observed his own men, but then his eyes moved upwards, catching Stiles in the distance. It was hard to see clearly, but Stiles was sure his gaze had lingered there for a few seconds too long to be completely disregarding. Before anything more could be done, any more breaths be drawn, Derek kicked the sides of his ride and he was off, galloping comfortably to the front to lead his men on. 

Stiles’ nails curled painfully into the stone of the ledge as he pulled himself back and straightened up. He watched the army make their way to the north until the very last man disappeared past a small blimp in the road. Then he stood there until Kira came to get him for dinner, realizing only once he was inside again how the evening winds had chilled him down through his flesh, shivering slightly.

 

—————————————————————

 

Holding down the castle with Derek gone was a daunting task the two days after his departure. There wasn’t much to take care of on the short notice, thank god, the servants were self reliant on the day to day matters, but just being the one everyone looked to for their questions made Stiles almost want to lock himself in his rooms. 

Erica kept his company most of the times, officially as his temporary guard in Derek’s absence, but she was fun enough to keep Stiles distracted at most times. Holding court was tedious enough, having to come up with suitable solutions to the harrowing problems of small land disputes and arguments over cattle. Cora agreed first to take over for him, but still it was too lifeless even for her to handle constantly, and Stiles found himself rubbing his temples with a growing ache by the time the herald announced the end for the day’s court. 

“My god,” Erica groaned, sweeping a hand through long blonde locks. “You’d think they’d all share the entire land Beacon has to offer with how many disagreements there are.”

Stiles moaned his agreement, bent over and his eyes closed. 

Suddenly Kira rushed in, and, apparently getting a little ahead of herself stumbled before them. Erica took a step forward, arms extended to catch the lord’s maiden but she just brushed the beta off. “Sorry to rush, but there’s some urgent news.”  She was slightly out of breath, eyes wide with excitement. “A group of men are almost here! They’re carrying your father’s banner on them.”

Stiles stood as Erica looked a little confused. “Your father didn’t send any envoy or message to announce anyone coming.”

“It wasn’t enough to be anything threatening. Maybe just three or four.”

For a moment of deliberation, Stiles looked between Erica, her prowess as a guard showing in the way she stood now on edge, and Kira with her eyebrows raised and a smile on her lips, before taking the first steps down. “If it’s my father’s men, we shouldn’t leave them out. Just let the other guards be cautious.”

As they began their way out, Erica frowned. “I don’t think this is a good idea if Derek’s gone.”

“Why, scared you won’t be up for a fight?” Stiles teased. 

She snorted at that. “No, I’m more than confident in my skill. I’m just more scared of Derek’s reaction if you get anything more than a little scratch in a fight. It’s my head then.”

Outside, Stiles bounced eagerly on the balls of his feet, waiting to see what exactly was going on. Four soldiers slowly trotted in through the gates, clearly a bit on edge to see the courtyard guards with weapons pulled and ready incase of a trick. In the corner of his eye, Stiles saw Erica’s hand on her sword, the small rasp of the steel on leather as she pulled it slightly in her distrust, and Kira on his other side was a barely to contain her excitement. 

But it didn’t come to blows thank god. The soldiers dismounted, turning to Stiles, and while three  gave the respectful bow, the fourth gave a shout. 

“Stiles!”

At that Stiles’ eyes went wide. “No way.” He took a step forward without thinking and Erica straightened up, one brow lifted. 

Scott took the helmet off, and flashed his crooked puppy smile in all its glory. The two ran to each other and in a few steps met in the middle, Scott spinning Stiles twice in his excitement. Stiles could hardly believe it for a moment, holding Scott’s face between his hands and then laughing. 

“What on earth are you doing here Scott? Does Melissa know you’re here?”

“Of course she knows! She knows every time I put a toe out of place. She says hello by the way.” Scott puffed out his chest, looking incredibly proud for a man in a armor plate that didn’t fit him in all the right places. “Your father sent me. He heard about the Argents attacking, so he thought it might be nice to have a few guys of your own to protect you. And then, who better than me!”

Erica gave an unamused hum behind them, and Stiles turned to give her a hush, seeing her now standing relaxed with her arms crossed and Kira laughing beside her. 

It was true, with his uncoordinated reflex that were only better than Stiles and weak chest that made him prone to wheezing after small bursts of physical labor, he wasn’t the most suitable to be anyone guard, but Stiles knew precisely why his father had sent Scott. If there was anyone who would stand and fight for Stiles until his last dying breath faded out, it was Scott. 

When the boys were only fifteen, they often found the confines of the castle to be a bit too much, and on the rare night they got a chance, they would slip out through a secret passage they’d discovered on day while hiding from their parents, and try to explore the city at night. Stiles hadn’t been feeling good the entire day, a bit feverish and all, but the chance to get away was not going to be wasted. Once at the outskirts of the town though, it came to a crux and a cramping pain overtook Stiles and he collapsed down to his knees. The year before, an very happy Scott had presented himself officially as an beta, professing to Stiles anytime he could for the few weeks after how he was now a man. He gripped Stiles tightly when he fell, leaning forward in his concern but then almost immediately pulling back with a wrinkled nose, a look of disgust on his face. 

“Dude, you smell _weird_.”

But Stiles had just let out a a soft whine, curling forward on himself, his forehead touching the blissfully cold ground. It felt like burning coals had been painfully shoveled into his abdomen, and he he quickly broke into a hot sweat, the fine clothes on his skin feeling like sandpaper. 

“Stiles?” Scott placed a hand on his shoulder, his other hand covering his mouth and nose. “You smell off, like, really bad. We’ve got to get you back home.” He tried to haul Stiles back to his feet, but he was more of a dead weight, so he ended up just locking his arms under Stiles’ armpits and attempting to drag him back. They were so close that the bond between them had essentially become familiar like brothers, so the scent of Stiles’ heat didn’t have an effect on him. But they only got a few feet back, Scott clearly not a boy of muscle and Stiles not doing any favors, when a sharp whistle pierced through the air. 

“Somebody smells delicious.”

Scott’s head had snapped up, startled, and Stiles had groaned. Two men had been mostly hidden in the shadows, both burly, stereotypical alphas, and grinning like they’d found a golden prize. Scott’s arms tightened around Stiles and he strained even harder to pull him back, with Stiles’ weak attempts to help. 

“What idiots would bring an omega out here like that, smelling like the bitch in heat he is?” The alpha labeled as the speaker of the two was taking another step forward, head lifting to sniff at the air and sigh in satisfaction. “Ripe one too.”

Scott carefully laid Stiles down to sit on the ground, arms wrapped around his sides, and stepped in front of him. His fists raised and he planted his feet. “Stay away. He’s not yours to touch. Leave us alone.”

The second alpha laughed and walked right up to Scott, easily dodging the frenzied punch aimed at him and sending a hit to Scott’s jaw so hard the boy ended up right on his back. He went to step over him, but Scott didn’t relent and grabbed his ankle to try to trip him. The alphas quickly were tired of his interference and the first one sent a swift kick to his ribs to make him let go. Stiles began to cry at the sound he made. It was a rush of too much emotion and distress for him, and the pheromones he gave off became thicker and darker. 

The lead alpha left the second to finish dealing with Scott, who was still putting of a valiant fight along with his choked cries to leave Stiles alone. The alpha leaned over the prince, inhaling deeply and his hand going to palm at the obvious arousing effect Stiles’ heat had on him. 

“We’re gonna have a lot of fun, you and me,” he said, and at Stiles’ hands pushing on his chest to go away, he chuckled and gathered both wrists in one grip. “Don’t make it harder for yourself omega. It doesn’t have to be good for you to be good for me.”

A sound of pain came from the side, and Stiles turned his aching head to see the second alpha clutching between his legs and bent over as Scott launched himself at the man over Stiles. It was probably the complete element of surprise that allowed the scrawny boy to knock him over and off Stiles. “I said leave him alone!” Scott scrambled back to cover Stiles’ body with his, glaring at the alphas as they recuperated. “Come closer again and I’ll do more than kick you knotheads in the balls!”

Then the sound pounding of hooves thank god came to the rescue, and suddenly a group of castle guards were circling the two alphas who finally began to cower. John was right behind them, scent flushed with anger but he went immediately to his son. He dismounted, dropping to his knees to gather up the keening boy. “He’s presented,” he said in a hushed tone, unintentionally. Then he looked up to Scott, bleeding from the corner of his mouth with a black bruise blooming on his chin from the punch. “Thank you,” he said soberly. “Get one of the guards to take you back to your mother Scott, I’ve got to get Stiles to a safe heat room.”

“Yes sir!” Scott gave a small mock salute as the king stood with his son in his arms. 

The last thing Stiles could remember before the heat took over his mind was Scott standing waving at him, arm awkwardly crossed over his chest to clutch his ribs, and a bit smile on his face. 

“I think it’s gonna be so cool,” Scott said with a grin. “Your dad even gave me a sword and everything.”

Erica rolled her eyes so hard Stiles was surprised they didn’t get stuck in the back of her head. “But do you know how to use it properly? Beyond which end you need to hold?”

“I’m sure you can teach him.” Kira’s voice cut in, and she beamed at Scott, who smiled back as warmly. 

“Would you Erica? I would really appreciate it if you could help Scott out.”

Erica looked to Stiles, looking for all the world like she wanted to say no. Then she let out a sigh. “How could I refuse.”

Stiles planted a kiss on her cheek, to which she smiled and shook her head affectionately. “I think I’m starting to rub off on you. Using your good looks and charm to your advantage? Sounds surprisingly a lot like something I might do.”

He laughed and then gestured back to the other three guards his father had sent to the direction of the stables. “You can take the horses there, the stableboy will take care of them from there on.”

One of the men, who Stiles recognized as one of his father’s favored men Parrish, gave a small salutation with his hand before telling an order to the other two and they led the rides away, Scott’s too. 

“So who’s the dark haired girl?” Scott whispered later into the Stiles ear during dinner in the library, Erica lounging on the couch and sharpening a nail on the knife always strapped to her hip. 

He looked up from the book he read while shoveling food in his mouth with the other hand without looking. “Hm? You mean Kira?”

 “Kira.” Scott tested the name out on his tongue. “That’s a pretty name.”

Stiles gave him a long side look.  "I actually like her. Don’t make things weird by getting all moony like you do whenever you get a crush someone.”

“I do not get moony! It’s called romantic.”

“Light stalking and a fair amount of daydream drooling is not considered romantic by any standards.”

Erica tried to stifle a laugh in a cough, but it was still apparent enough. 

“Still,” Stiles said. “lets just not get to ahead of ourselves before we even know if she’d like you that way.”

He really shouldn’t have worried himself over it at all. Kira was seeing to it that he got ready for bed when the most rushed, faked nonchalant words came from her lips. “So, your friend Scott. What’s he like?”

She didn’t understand the light groan Stiles gave mixed with a laugh. “Trust me,” he said. “Something seems to tell me that you guys might just getting along beautifully.”

 

—————————————————————

 

Stiles was fast asleep with a wonderful dream with something having to do with fountains of chocolate when a hand shook him roughly, jolting him painfully from sleep. He was groggy for a moment when he opened his eyes, but the moment he registered Erica a cold flush went over him. Her eyes were wide and wild, and bright red sprays of blood covered large portions of her skin. 

“We’ve got to go.” She pulled him out of bed with necessary force in her haste, gaze constantly snapping between him and the doorway while her hand twisted the knife it held over and over in agitation. For a second Stiles was fascinated at the sight of blood on the steel. “The Argent troops were a ploy to pull out a big reserve of our men. They sent a smaller group in to get inside the castle while most of our men are gone. We’re not sure where they all are, some of them managed to slip past.”

Stiles didn’t know how to react, just mechanically pulling on his robe and pulling the drawstrings so tight his stomach hurt. “What are we going to do?”

“There is a basic panic room for deeper in the castle. It’s easier to protect and those who can’t fight go there.” She went to the door, poked her head out for a moment and pulled him out with her. She pushed the knife into his hands. 

“Don’t you need this?” he hissed at her. She didn’t have her sword on her either. 

Erica didn’t answer, instead glaring at him to quiet down. She stopped before a corner, not peeking out around, but instead craning her head to listen. Stiles couldn’t hear anything and made to step around, but one surprisingly solid arm pinned him back against the wall. Erica shook her head violently. 

At this point Stiles was just freaking out, and then he looked down. Seeing Erica’s carefully maintained nails elongated into claws nearly made him sure he’d lost his mind under all the stress, but she set him straight with a hard look and a hard point down to mime staying in his spot. Then he faintly watched as she rounded the corner and the sounds of a scuffle began. 

So she was right after all. 

Stiles was less than content to stay against the wall, letting Erica fight whatever assassin was on the other side, but when he turned to build himself up to help her, the cold sting of steel against his throat made him freeze. 

“What a lovely surprise, Derek’s sweet little omega.” A feminine voice sang happily next to his ear. 

Stiles didn’t dare move a single muscle when the woman circled around slowly to face him, blade always pressed against his neck. She was very beautiful, dark blond waves and hazel eyes only disrupted by the slightly deranged look of glee in them. She quickly reached down with her free hand to snatch the knife that Erica had given him to thrown it away, skidding uselessly far with a clatter against the stone floor.

“I was so surprised to hear that Derek had moved on to some fresh little mate. I thought I’d really taken him off the market for life,” she spoke casually, like she wasn’t some small flick of her wrist away from slicing his throat. “But it’s nice to have some new toy to take away now.”

Stiles’ throat was exceptionally dry. “Who are you?” he rasped. 

The smile she gave chilled his blood to ice. “Oh honey, I’m sure you’ve heard of me. Kate Argent ring some bells?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys like the cliffhanger! I won't be too mean and I'll post the next one soon.  
> Tell me what you think!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh I'm sorry for leaving you guys last off on a cliffhanger, but I hope this chapter makes it up to you!

Life on the warpath was one that Derek had grown accustomed to, though it was never necessarily comfortable, and never ought to be. The air was crisp and clean, only ever muddied by the smoke of the small bonfires the men huddle around in groups, passing rationed food around amongst themselves. It was a hard, dirty life, and one that Derek had made a home in for years, seeing nothing but a thirst for vengeance for him family and to protect the remains of his bloodline fighting for their survival against a relentless terror. 

But each of his dreams every time they stopped to rest was filled with amber eyes and the sweetest waifing, visions of soft fingers stroking his face, running through his hair and small smiles that made his heart ache the smallest bit when he woke up to find his cot hard and void of the warm body he’s enjoyed being simply in the vicinity of. He had a home now, but he feared it was wrecked by his bullheadedness. He was nowhere near the only one to blame there, he wasn’t that much of a martyr, but Derek could look back and see the misstep he took to try to leave without any warning. 

He honestly had just thought it would be less straining then a panic, stress filled embrace goodbye, to see Stiles’ eyes wide and frightened for him and for their people. Just to see the breath-stopping reaction when he’d told Stiles the news, the way he could hear the speed up stutter to his heartbeat, and had to cradle the unfocused omega in his arms and whisper soothing words into his ear for what felt like ages before he finally relaxed into his arms. Derek wanted so badly to rush back home sweep his husband away again and just work on the courtship that had begun to blossom between them over the past weeks. 

The train of thought was interrupted by the flap to his tent violently being thrown aside, Boyd and Jackson storming in with an urgency that made Derek quickly stand to his feet, suddenly on full alert.

“Your majesty,” Jackson’s jaw was smeared with blood, already half dried, and a bandage wrapped around his upper arm stained through with crimson, but it didn’t seem to bother him now. “We need to head back to the castle now.”

Derek looked between the two, both practically vibrating with tension. “What makes you say that? We’ve only captured a small platoon of those that are slaughtering our people.”

“The whole attack was an simple distraction.” The words were almost burst through Boyd’s lips. “We managed to work it out of the captured commander. They were just to draw us out, the other part to their division circled back around us to the castle, the attack is planned for tonight at midnight.”

Now the usually reserved Boyd’s urgency made sense thinking back to Erica, his mate, stationed as one of the guards stationed back at the castle. The idea of Stiles sitting back with an assault waiting for him in under a few hours made the blood drain from his face.  “You two are placed in charge in my absence. Get the men ready and follow me, I can’t afford to wait.”

He made to brush past them, rush out to hope astride his stallion and race all the way back to the castle and rip every one of those assassins’ heads from their shoulders with his bare hands. 

“Wait!” Jackson’s bark didn’t stop his stride, but his turned his head in acknowledgment as they followed him out to ready his own ride. “That’s not all.”

Derek could even hear the nervous swallow that gave Jackson pause, eyes sharply snapping to him as his hands paused. “What is it? Hold your tongue and I’ll rip it out.”

Jackson was obviously surprised at the violent threat and blanched, gaze darting nervously to Boyd for a moment but the man was too ingrained in thought to be of much help. Derek could understand. No matter how capable they knew Erica to be as a fighter and the last step barrier to Stiles, the mere idea of your mate being in danger was like a deep stab to the soft of your belly. 

“He said that among those sent to the castle, Kate was leading them.”

The roar came from deep within his chest, ignited by pure fury and desperation. If she laid a single hand on Stiles’ soft flesh, he would tear her limb from limb anew. She had already taken his family twice from him, as he stood helpless by but to mourn the bodies if any were any left to even bury. That would not be allowed to happen a third time. 

His hands tugged the buckled reign in sharper than necessary and hoisted himself up to the saddle. “Get them ready to go as soon as possible and back to the castle as fast as their feet can take them,” he growled, hands wrapped around the leather reign. 

Both lieutenants gave honed nods, faces gravely serious and with that final look Derek dug his heels into Camaro’s side, spurring the stallion into a jolting leap forward and they raced down the path out of camp, paying no heed to the confused looks and calls his men gave to see their commander and king racing from camp as the sunset approached with the light’s decent. 

The woman who’d taken everything from him was extending her clutches to the innocent man that would blissfully unaware in their shared bed until she stood above him with a match to set him ablaze as she watched. Derek couldn’t let that happen again and only pushed his ride harder, willing them to hold out once the attack began just until he could make it to wet his hands in blood with joy. 

“Just hold on.”

 

—————————————————————

 

It was funny how unaware Stiles was of any small twitches or tremors his body gave until the moment was sharp knife was being held against the center of his throat, trying to keep every single muscle in his body stone still, only allowing his eyes to move to watch Kate. Her hand never strayed from holding the weapon steadily against him, but her head cocked, inspecting him from the top to bottom, chuckling or tisking to herself. 

“Derek’s not here,” he said, wincing at bit at the sting of the blade at his throat. 

Kate rolled her eyes at him, as if she found the admittance to be completely moronic. “Of course I know he’s not here, that was the point of drawing him out. You think that was a coincidence? He’s not coming back anytime soon sweetie.”

Stiles felt a hard drop to the pit of his stomach. “You killed all those innocent people in the village?”

“Sacrifices must be made, but not on our part.”

A hard grunt came from where Erica was fighting off whoever Kate had come with, but she didn’t seem concerned at all with her comrade. Her eyes never left Stiles, a smile lighting her face like a child that had been given a particularly wonderful gift. Suddenly she leaned forward, Stiles shuddering when her hair brushed his cheek as she scented him, letting out a self-satisfied sigh. “He was always drawn to that kind of sweetness in a mate.”

He didn’t know, and didn’t particularly care to hear what she meant at that moment, not when sounds of scuffles and dying cries kept ringing out through the stone halls and Stiles had no idea which side was faring better. “You killed Derek’s family, right? You burned them in their sleep.”

She scoffed. “That’s not all I did.” The smile grew wider, and her fingers flexed over the handle of the blade. “I shattered his heart, broke him down. But I’ve got to admit, lighting that fire gave me a pleasure I’ve never felt before.”

Stiles only stared at her horrified. There were countless stories about the lengths the Argents would go to for their crusade of ‘justice’, the lives lost on both sides. Everyone had suspected their hand once the word had broken out about the tragic loss of life for the Hales, but it had been impossible to directly track them back to it. To hear her personal confession, the pleasure she got from just relying the memory, only scared Stiles further at the type of psychotic person holding his life in their hands. 

His throat was dry, and when he talked it was at a low rasp. “What did they ever do to you? You murdered innocent people — _children_.”

Kate’s whole demeanor soured, lips turning down in a scowl and she pressed the knife a fraction harder. Stiles had to school his face not to screw up in pain as he felt some of the flesh give to the sharp point, a small wet trail of what he shockingly knew to be his own blood beaded down the goose bumped skin of his neck. 

“You ask too many questions, you know that?”

She pressed further, this time with her whole body, and Stiles could only take a half step back until he was pushed fully against the wall. He could feel the short, excited breaths she gave against his cheek in small puffs, meanwhile he was too scared to do anything more than to try to calm his whole body. No need to accidentally damage his throat further than a cut just because he had to take a deep gulping breath and ended up pushing the sensitive skin harder against the edge. 

“See, I thought all I had left to take from my wonderfully puppy was his sister, but she’s something else on her own and that would be hard enough. Then he mated you! There’s nothing worse than just stealing an alpha’s mate our from what should be the safety of their own home. He left you and you’re going to die for it.” She smiled again, pearly white teeth and friendly tone as if she was telling a sweet story to a close friend. “It’s going to take him past any edge I’ve been able to push him to before.”

Finally there was a hard thud of a body hitting the ground and before Stiles could even begin to close his eyes and pray, Erica stalked around the corner. Claws that Stiles was sure he must have imagined were still extended, now bloodstained, and her eyes were blue, a bright _fucking_ _glowing_ blue. Seeing Stiles pressed against the stone with the knife at his throat she growled, tensed and ready to pounce. 

Kate just puckered her lips with an aw like she found Erica cute. “What, you wanna play too?”

There was a terse moment of anticipation from both, just waiting for the moment the other would twitch first, but then they both burst into movement. 

Erica went into a sort of half crouch before launching herself at the Argent, ferocity on her face and claws reaching towards her, but Kate had been ready. The dagger dropped from Stiles’ throat for a split second as Kate whirled around, reappearing now in her other hand as she threw some sort of shimmering deep purple powder in her face. Stiles would have scoffed at the nonviolent approach Kate took, but the second the powder hit Erica, she screamed, clutching at her face like it was melting and staggering back, choked sobs through her cries. He wanted to run to his friend, pull her back and try to figure out a way to help with whatever was causing her such intense pain, but he didn’t plan to test out how ambidextrous Kate was with her knife. 

Kate turned back to look at him with a roll of her eyes, left arm fully extended out to reach his throat while still facing an Erica down on her knees, angry red and purpling flesh visible between her fingers. “And they all think they’re so tough.”

“Go to hell,” he spat at her. 

She sneered at him. “Such fiery words from an omega. I can see why Derek would like you so much. He’s always had a urge for things that can’t be contained.” Her hand came up to stoke at his face, almost lovingly like a mother would softly touch a child to calm it. It almost made him sick.

“Get off him you sick bitch.”

While any help could have made Stiles weep for joy, his blood froze when he saw Kira, standing for all the world steady and assured like she didn’t call the attention of a complete mad woman to herself. The almond eyes that he had come to rely on anytime for warmth and joy were hard as she stared down Kate, stance wide. In those delicate hands she held a long and thin, almost rectangular, blade that Stiles couldn’t say he’d ever seen any of his men or Derek’s handling. 

Kate’s eyes narrowed. “You’re not one of their kind,” she said. “We’re letting you go for now, but I still don’t have any patience for sympathizers.” 

His lord’s lady didn’t pay her warning any mind, instead slowly stepping forward until she wasn’t anything more than a foot or two from them. Kira’s hands brought the sword out from her side to center it with both hands on the handle, face a solid wall of threat. “My duty is to my king and his consort. That means protecting him with my life.”

The words touched Stiles, that Kira was willing to put herself in such a position for him even as he screamed for her to leave him within the trappings of his own mind, but Kate just threw her head back and laughed. “You and your silly little katana is meant to make me tremble?”

“You should.”

Suddenly Kira let out a loud cry and her hands brought the katana up to slice down with an air slicing power that all Kate could do was jump back, suddenly look at Kira with an evaluating look in her eyes, finally serious and viewing Kira as a threat. The dagger that was slightly ruby stained with droplets of his blood was joined by a twin from her belt, both loosely gripped by her fingers. The couple clashed over and over again, skill meeting passion meeting aggression. 

Stiles was almost entranced with Kira’s graceful twirls and arcs of her arms as her sword acted like a living extension of her, completely in control. But as surprising proficient Kira proved herself to be, Kate had years of practice in combat on her side. One exposed weakness and Kate was able to hook a foot around Kira’s ankle and swipe, topping her to the ground. At that proximity, the sword was all but useless, and it began a fight as Kate pushed her blade to Kira’s chest, the younger girls arms shaking as she struggled to keep the steel from entering her chest as it slowly descended lower and lower with each passing time Stiles could only keep by his passing heartbeats. 

The call to action stuck him all of a sudden, and he pushed off the wall and tried latching himself to Kate, using all his body weight to try to throw her off or take away her upper hand. He wrapped his arm around her throat, squeezing down as hard as he could. At the sound of her sputtering breath, his hopes soared but it didn’t last long. Kate abandoned the struggle to stab Kira in favor of quickly bringing back her fist and landing it right in the other omega’s face, making her cry out with a gush of blood from her nose, and then snapping back her own head to slam painfully into Stiles’. 

He fell off of her, disoriented for a moment and she used it to straddle his chest, pinning his arms down with her legs, and one hand fisting painfully in his hair to yank his head up. There was a red ring in the shape of his hands around her neck, one that Stiles hoped would deepen down to a purple mark of shame for her. She placed the dagger back at his re-exposed throat. “It’s going to be even more satisfying to kill you now.”

Stiles arched and tried to buck her off, but a knee to her back only proved to vex her further. To stop his squirming, the hand in his hair tightened even further until he was sure that she’d torn more than a few strands out by force and she slammed the back of his head down to the cold floor, once, twice, _thrice_ , until he could only dazedly look up at her, the fight gone. 

At the wide grin of complete satisfaction she gave, he thought this would be the last moments of his far too short life, the seconds of pain and terror before she would literally cut him short. The moment he felt the increase of pressure of the blade, each small increment the way to the painful release, his eyes fluttered shut. 

A thundering roar echoed off every inch of stone, and the compressing weight of Kate was gone, the blade only leaving the kissing sting of the thin cut already across his throat. Hands grasped at his shoulders, trying to pull him away but clearly not strong enough. Stiles finally gathered himself enough to crack his eyes open. A steady stream of blood dripped past her lips and onto her chin as she yanked him back, only an inch at a time while he was completely limp, not doing any favors. 

Slowly, confused and still stunned from the hard hits to his head, his gaze unsteadily tracking to the room trying to find where the hell Kate had gone when she’d been so close to just finally ending his life. His brows furrowed at a large, hulking dark figure, then gasped when his sight finally focused. A wolf, larger than any of the few he’d seen stuffed or mounted before in his life, was standing in front of the beta and two omegas, legs braced with pure animalistic muscle as he crouched down tense, hackles raised. The growl through his bare teeth with deep enough that Stiles swore he could feel like vibrating through his rib cage. 

Kate stood facing him, one hand clamped over four long and deep scratches over her left forearm, ruby rivulets lacing across her skin. Despite the menacing figure the wolf cut, she didn’t seem scared in the slightest. Instead, she was seemingly pleased to see him. “A little earlier than scheduled, but I’m adaptable.”

The beast took a single paw step forward, growls increasing in intensity. 

Two men barred around the corner behind Kate, one with a blade in his hand and the other with a crossbow, both skidding to a stop at seeing a wolf waiting for them. The dam of nonviolence was broken when the pawn with the crossbow decided to aim and shoot. Of course, it was a miss, the arrow dodged by the black wolf with ease before it leap and in a quick motion a bit too much for Stiles’ eyes to follow, the man was on his back, throat ripped out and the animal’s maw dripping. Finally, Kate began to look uneasy, taking one small step back. Stiles wasn’t sure if he was lucid when he saw the beast’s big eyes glance to them, luminous red irises transfixing. The wolf attacked again, this time the man putting up a good fight. 

A second pair of hands wrapped around Stiles and he achingly craned his neck back to see Erica helping Kira take his load, with much more ease despite her face looking almost burned, eyes watering painfully red. “Come on Stiles,” she whispered, voice barely more than a croak. “Derek can take care of himself.”

The ache in his head kept threatening to take over, but Stiles let them manhandle him to his feet and drag him away. All the lights were too bright, each noise deafening to his ears. He closed his eyes and just let himself stumble along, lead by the two women he trusted his life with before they thrust themselves through an opened door. He dropped as soon as they let go of him, mercifully into a comforting seat.

“ _Stiles!_ ” Cora’s cry sounded like it came through a thick layer of murky water. 

Cool hands touched his neck, carefully tipping his neck and something pressed against the wound across his throat. Mercifully, he finally let himself slip away to the darkness that had been tugging at his shirt tail the entire time. It was a calming release, one well deserved. 

 

—————————————————————

 

Something soft yet scratchy rubbed at Stiles’ shoulder as he made the slow decent for consciousness. His eyes felt like weights were pulling them down as he opened them, slowing turning his head to not aggravate his throbbing headache. 

Derek lifted his head from where he was gingerly scenting Stiles as they lay in their bedchamber, as a comfort to both of them, his arms around Stiles' torso. The weight of them wasn’t nearly enough to be restricting, but warm enough to solace Stiles. Derek’s eyes were open and wide when he looked at him. “You’re awake.”

Stiles cracked a small smile. “And you’re back home.”

A hand dragged up Stiles’ chest to the bandage wrapped around this throat, and Derek suddenly looked mournful. “You almost died last night Stiles. She was so close to killing you and that’s on me.” His gaze dropped, staying steadily on the bedcovers and Stiles’ heart broke. 

He grabbed the alpha’s chin in surprisingly unfaltering fingers, and forced him to look at him. The more he woke up, the better he felt with each deep breath, and the more forceful he was becoming. “You did what a good king would do, you went to put yourself in trouble for the sake of your people’s safety. We call knew there is going to be risk when I became your husband, and this just taught us that we’re going to have to be a bit more careful moving forward.” Then he smiled, sitting up and leaning over his husband. “As we can all see, you or they aren’t getting rid of me any time soon.”

He could have cried when Derek smiled and reached up, hand in his hair gentle in a way that contrasted to how Kate had handled him, and guided him down for a kiss. It was soft, warm and neither really wanted to pull back, their lips just separated after a moment for breath. Their foreheads stayed pressed against each other, hot air between them as Derek squeezed his eyes shut. 

“I’m sorry.” His voice was so quiet that even though they were only less than a few meremilitmers apart, it was almost hard to hear. “You could have died and I would have left you with our fight and I’m just sorry.”

Stiles’ throat closed up and his hand raised to touch Derek’s cheek. He just needed to be grounded. “That was on both of us Derek. Let’s just forget it and move on.” His nails scratched a bit on the scruff of Derek's beard. “Just promise that you won’t leave me like that again.”

For a moment Derek just looked at him, their eyes were evenly matched as they looked at each other. So much was said, so much promise, so much affection was in that small look. Stiles eyes were wet with tears he didn’t want to shed, not out of sadness but finally out of relief. 

Derek slowly pulled him back down, kissing him over and over with an increasing fever that kept on stealing the little breath from his lungs. 

Soon he was being pressed down into the mattress as Derek’s hand slowly rubbed up and down his sides, making a hitch in his breath. “D-Derek.” His back arched a little as Derek rolled over him, fitting perfectly between his legs. 

Derek’s kisses trailed down his cheek to his neck, but then the alpha’s head regretfully pulled away. “Stiles,” he waited until his husband collected himself enough to look at him in the eyes. “Are you sure this is something that you’d be ready for? That you want?”

For everything inside him that was just screaming to say yes, to demand that he was taken there, Stiles paused. He thought of the desire coiling inside him, the almost feverish feeling to his skin. This was a man willing to hold himself back from his own inclination to make sure he was ready to make love, despite the fact that most alphas would have taken the scent of the slick starting to leak from him as more than enough consent, if they needed anything at all. He smiled softly. “If it was something I didn’t want with you, don’t you think I’d more than make sure that you knew that?” When he wrapped his legs around Derek’s waist under the covers, bringing both their half erect cocks together, he knew precisely what he was doing.

Derek’s eyes glazed over with lust, and suddenly he was attacked the dip of Stiles’ shoulder, a sensitive area not covered by the bandaged. Stiles whined and rocked his hips, Derek quickly getting the idea and reaching a hand between them to lift up his nightshift, wrapping wonderful calloused fingers around him as he mouthed the pale skin of his neck red. 

It was a whirlwind of feelings Stiles was swept up in, fingers digging welts into Derek’s back where he’d tugged up his shirt. But, he wanted more. So many stories talked about how together a mated pair felt during their first union, the connection of their bond never stronger. He turned his head, tugging on Derek to bring him up from his now well abused skin. “Mate me Derek,” he panted. “Properly. Please.”

A low growl came from his husband, and Stiles couldn’t help but shiver. The king threw the covers off them, standing to remove his pants. Stiles could remember the last time he’d seen Derek like that, cock out fully hard and engorged, but that had been a moment full of fear and uncertainty on his part, sure that his husband held a hatred for him. This time Stiles lifted himself up enough to pull the everyday nightgown over his head and off, leaving his body open to the cool air, and, despite his own initial nervousness, spread his legs to invite Derek to lay between them once more. 

Now Derek hesitated, looking down at Stiles as if he was some sort of gift he was afraid to touch for fear of ruining it. Stiles had to resist the urge to close his knees, suddenly overtaken with self consciousness. “What?”

“Did you know that when you blush, you're whole chest lights up red?” It sounded like a thought Derek didn’t meant to have out loud. 

Stiles’ nose scrunched up, mildly confused. This was not the sort of bedroom talk he had been expecting. Derek’s eyes then snapped to his and he seemed to remember just exactly what they were in the middle of. Kneeling back on the bed, he grabbed both of Stiles’ thighs and pushed them back until the younger boy was nearly bent in half. By this point he was already dripping slick, but being manhandled sent a whole new gush out to his own surprise. He was on display now, hole nervously pulsating and his eyes watched Derek’s face carefully as he looked at it transfixed. He’d begun to squirm when Derek suddenly leaned down and swiped his tongue flatly over the hole, making him shriek. It was warm, wet, and way too good for something that was an frankly unappealing idea to think off. 

Derek moaned as if it was giving him as much, if not more pleasure, then attacked Stiles’ hole again with the same fervor that he had his neck. Minutes went on of it, Stiles hands fisting so hard in the sheets he was scared they would break, until finally the dam of noise Stiles was trying to hold back broke. Whimpers and horse cries came with each enthusiastic lick or suck Derek gave, and when he gave a small nibble to the rim with his teeth, Stiles felt his balls draw up and with a shout he came over his own stomach. 

It took a minute for him to come back to himself from the white high of his orgasm, but when he did a broken moan left his lips at the feeling a finger Derek must have slipped into him in the relaxation of his orgasm pumping steadily in and out, still slightly burning but being overtaken with every second by the pleasure. Derek obviously enjoyed the sounds he made, since Stiles could feel his smile with each kiss he laid to Stiles’ chest. His lips wrapped around one perked nipple, sucking with soft bites to it in between. 

If Stiles could think properly for a moment, he’d have said that his husband had a bit of a biting kink, but all he could do in that moment was appreciate the sharp pleasure of it. 

One finger was steadily joined by another, scissoring in and out, as Derek grew satisfied with his work and switched to the other nipple. By the time he added a third finger, Stiles was sweating for desperation and sensory overload when he tapped something inside him that made Stiles’ whole body jerk upwards with a loud gasp. “There it is,” Derek murmured with a smirk, and then every pump of his fingers hit that sweet spot, soon reducing him to sobs. 

It left him unable to form words, and it was all Stiles could do to tug sharply on his black hair. Thankfully Derek got the idea from the jumbled mess that left his mouth and detached from his sweetly sore chest with a wet pop and removed his fingers after one final thrust. Using the excess slick that had trailed down between the crack of Stiles’ ass, he coated his cock freely. 

Stiles could see how angry and red his manhood was, obviously more than aroused by the sight of his mate and the pheromones he was releasing after one orgasm and a further build up to another. 

He looked the alpha right in the eyes and said the words he knew for sure were going to wreck him. “I need you inside me Derek now. Only you.”

Stiles gasped when the alpha’s eyes suddenly flared bright red but didn’t have any moment to comment on it when Derek gave him a forceful, passionate kiss that he could only moan into. Derek was a powerful current, washing Stiles along for the ride that he couldn’t ask more for. 

In the back of his mind he felt a pillow being forced beneath his hips, and hands bending his legs at an angle back and apart. But the time Derek pulled back away Stiles was completely dazed again, only looking up at his husband in a way that was probably cross eyed. 

As domineering as Derek had been with his kiss, he was so gentle when he settled between Stiles’ thighs. His hand stroked his flank as if soothing an animal, before lifting himself back over Stiles to line himself up, hand on his cock to guide it in. 

It was like a hot brand penetrating him, but it never felt so perfect. Derek took his time, inching in his massive length slowly until Stiles felt ready to cry just over how perfectly overwhelming it felt. He finally bottomed out, his balls flush against Stiles’ ass, and he stayed perfectly still for a moment, Stiles could see the effort to not rut in the way his arms just shook as he held himself up. 

When Stiles just lifted his hips slightly, the small change in angle had them both groaning, Derek’s hips involuntarily thrusting slightly. But as Stiles urged him to move, bucking his hips and small gasps of _‘oh my god’_ he began to pull out slightly then slide back him, each time gaining more speed and thrust. 

Quickly he was pulling nearly all the way out, to which Stiles would let out a small empty whimper, then he would pound himself full back in, each time aiming to hit Stiles’ prostate and make him see stars. Stiles thought that if there was ever a way for him to die, it would be by Derek damn amazing cock. 

Then the knot started. 

Each time Derek would pull out, a tug on his rim became more and more noticeable, until Stiles was gasping for breath each time the knot pulled on the sensitive skin then grunting in turn as the head nailed that little bundle of nerves each time with precision. 

Soon it began too hard for Derek to pull all the way out, the last time it took a hard thrust to pop the knot back in Stiles, and it still kept growing. Now the old wives tales of men’s knots ripping their virgin brides in two made sense, it felt like it was growing to an impossible size for him to fit. _But_ _boy it felt amazing too._

It was becoming too hard to thrust, so Derek began grinding into him, bruising his lips with the force of his kiss. 

It was so much, the way that Stiles was impossibly full and stretched, the constant way his prostate was pressed, and his cry was muffled into Derek’s mouth as his body spasmed and came for the second time completely untouched between the pair. He wasn’t sure if his erection had even had time to go down after the first one. 

Derek followed quickly in suit with a deep grunt, the way that Stiles tightened around him in his orgasm pushed him to the edge he needed. Stiles’ eyes fluttered closed as he experienced the feeling of Derek’s cum being pumped into him, the knot securely keeping the seed inside him. 

He was a fully mated omega now. 

Derek peppered his face with light kisses, barely kept for collapsing and crushing his mate who was slumped with exhaustion. Stiles allowed himself to be maneuvered out of the damp area of the sheet from his slick and to the pillows as they were still tied. 

“How long’s your knot gonna last,” he slurred a little, already worn half asleep by his husband. 

“At the most an hour.” Derek’s voice was a low satisfied rumble, still mouthing at the soft skin beneath Stiles’ chin. The omega whined and flailed unseeingly to bat the alpha away, which he did with a chuckle. “Sleep Stiles.”

He yawned widely. “Just because you have an amazing, gorgeous dick doesn’t mean that we’re not gonna have a lot to talk about tomorrow.”

Derek didn’t answer him, just placed one last whisper soft kiss to Stiles’ cheek, arm pulling up the covers to conceal them once again. By the time he whispered goodnight, his consort was already fast asleep, made all the more cuter by the small amount of drool starting down his chin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So while I hope you all enjoyed that, something coming for a while now, the next chapter is going to be featuring Stiles confronting Derek about some more *supernatural* things he witnessed and what happened with Kate. See you all soon!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the bit of a wait, as school comes to an end and I come closer and closer to graduating in two weeks, life can get pretty hectic!

Stiles woke up feeling vaguely satisfied, a sweet soreness radiating from his backside and a frankly disgusting stickiness between his thighs. At some point while he was asleep Derek’s knot had gone down and slipped out, leaving nothing to barricade the cum from inside him as they slept. He winced, already anticipating the warm bath and unpleasant scrubbing it would take to get his own release out of the fine trail of hair leading down his stomach to his now softened manhood. 

Derek was still resting as Stiles carefully turned over in his arms, trying his best not to dip the bed and disrupt him. Though he couldn’t help himself but bring a hand up to trace ever so lightly the contours of his face, smoothed out in a way that it never could when he was awake, the stress of kinghood creating permanent marks  on his skin any time his mind was moving. The hair of his beard was grown out a bit, surprisingly soft and thick beneath Stiles’ fingertips. He probably didn’t have the energy to spare concerning over his appearance, and for some rugged reason Stiles rather enjoyed it. 

This his fingers trailed over his nose, proud and strong, just like Derek. It was a fine nose really. Further down he went, and soon his attention was spent marveling at the soft nature of Derek’s lips. They were slightly parted at moment as he slept on, and while Stiles could remember the slightly chapped roughness they’d had at their wedding kiss, they were smoother now. Of course his mind could put together so many times he’d caught himself gazing at his husband’s mouth when a pink swipe of his tongue caught his attention. 

Just as kissable as he’d imagined every time.

The lips his fingers brushed against suddenly gently kissed his fingers and Stiles’ eyes jumped up to meet Derek’s open green gaze. “Did I wake you up?” he said softly. “I tried not to.”

Derek’s voice was gruff at still being half asleep as he stretched his arms out, chuckling. “I’m a solider Stiles. I’ve learned to sleep light. The minute you started moving, I was awake.” His hand came up to curl around Stiles’ gently.

“That’s not all you are is it.”

The words were bluntly said, but Stiles was still cautious, watching Derek as the languid smile slipped from his face. Derek pushed himself up onto one elbow, looking down at Stiles as he remained laying down on his side, face half buried in the plush of the pillow, the other hand not in Derek’s grasp fighting with the edge of the under sheet. The silence was palpable, and Stiles could feel his heartbeat racing harder and faster with every second it passed. 

“What did you see already?” Derek’s voice was so quiet, so soft, that it almost scared Stiles more than if the man had yelled. At least then it would be an aggressor, not so passive, open, and _intimidated_ as it sounded.

Stiles swallowed. “I saw Erica. Her claws, or whatever they were, and her eyes. _Your eyes._ They were glowing Derek. Normal people’s eyes don’t glow blue or red. And then—“ He pressed his lips together, for a moment unsure how to proceed without sounding anymore like a lunatic. “That wolf thing that saved us from Kate. Erica called it Derek while she was dragging up away. Was that thing you?” His voice went up at the end and broke, the edge of the hysteria that was bubbling just beneath his skin. He wanted it all to be some sort of hallucination brought on by his head trauma, _please._

But Derek only looked at him, eyes now completely unreadable in his silence. 

“Please Derek,” he sighed. “I’m tired of being out of the loop and confused. I just want to understand whats going on and not feel like I’m losing my mind.”

Stiles could see how hard Derek’s jaw was clenched, straining so hard he was surprised that he didn’t shatter his own teeth. 

“Are you scared of us?”

 _Was he scared?_ Sure, it definitely was a shock to the system to see find that his husband and friends were something other than human, but fear wasn’t what was making a course though his veins. There was no threat lingering heavy in the air above them, only tense confusion. “I don’t think you’ll hurt me intentionally,” he finally said. “But that beast, it was you wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” Derek said abruptly. “That was my wolf form.”

“And Erica, and the others? They’re all like you?”

The alpha shook his head. “Not every single person in Beacon Hills. A large majority, but not all.”

Stiles turned his face further into the pillow, the suffocation of it comforting for a moment. It was like some sort of huge joke that he hadn’t been aware of until it was played on him. He was surrounded by, whatever, _werewolves_ , for weeks and had densely be unaware that so many people in his presence. Mortification pooled in his stomach, turning it sourly. They must have all thought him an idiot. 

A hand hesitantly stroked his head, light and twitchy as if expecting him to turn and snap Derek’s hand away. Stile cracked an eye open, squinting at him. “Why all the secrets? Why didn’t you just tell me in the first day?”

Derek sighed, fingers combing through his hair in a way that soothed Stiles, calming his racing pulse further. “Would you have believed me if I’d told you on our wedding night that my people are two beings in one, entwined as both man and a wolf?” Stiles grumbled and Derek let out a low chuckle. “I didn’t think so. Besides, I’d learned by lesson last time about sharing our secret so liberally.”

Now Stiles turned fully, feeling the subtle but grave shift in his husband. He didn’t even feel the need to ask. “Kate.”

All humor was completely gone from Derek’s eyes as he nodded, gaze dropping down as his hand curled behind Stiles neck. "I thought she was my perfect mate,” he said quietly. “I was young, stupidly overconfident in my role as an alpha. She was older, beautiful, and she said that she loved me. I believed her.”

The pain was more than evident in his face, the bitter edge soaking through the pine aroma surrounding him. Stiles was overwhelmed by the drive to comfort his mate in his time of weakness, pulling his down to rest in his arms, like a backwards portrayal of the stereotypical picture of the alpha holding a sniffling, smitten omega in his arms. No one could be so strong all the time, especially to rehash such awful guilt ridden memories. Derek’s head rested right below his chin, his breath damp against his neck. 

Almost on instinct, Derek turned his head slightly to scent at Stiles’ gland below the bandage. The scent of one’s mate was supposed to be the one most serene thing, especially an omega’s, since one of their traditional duties was to make the most calming environment for their alpha to come home to. Stiles closed his eyes and let the affection seep through him as Derek took deep breaths. 

“Every wolf is drawn more to different scents,” he said, voice muffled into Stiles’ neck. “She found a way to recreate the scent that would attract me the most. It smelled so close to the way you smelled when you walked into our wedding. Only a bit off, but I couldn’t see anything past the fact that she said she loved me and she just smelled so sweet.” Stiles could feel the small smile against his skin. “Apparently she wore it as a perfume to mask her own. Just like vanilla, with a hint of cinnamon. You smell so sweet.”

“I’m glad you think so,” Stiles murmured, his fingers running up and down Derek’s back taunt with tension. He knew it must have been taking so much in Derek to willing divulge his faults. 

“She said she wanted to marry me, wanted to mate. My mother knew something was wrong of course. There had always been uneasy waters between our house and the Argents, for as far back as anyone could account. They’ve always been hunters, never so pronounced, and we were beasts to them, unnatural things that had to be slain. I trusted her wholeheartedly though, and waved my mother off as just being protective of her cubs. Kate kept telling me it was just that my mother was disappointed that I didn’t find a nice omega to marry and that eventually she’d warm up to her. I told her one day, our secret, and shifted before her. To my surprise she didn't seem scared at all. She just laughed and clapped her hands, before asking me all sort of questions about our wolves. I answered every question.”

Stiles could recall Kate’s scent when she’d leaned in to scent him, the muted scent of a beta, Kate’s specifically of bitter chamomile that tickled his nose. 

“She sent me a letter that day. It told me to visit her outside for a secret romance away from any chaperones in the forest. Of course I leapt at the chance to be alone with her, so I told my parents that I wasn’t feeling well before dinner and that I was going to rest in my room. My mother came to visit me while the rest of my family ate their meal with a bowl of broth. She was concern and tried to care for me, but I felt like she was coddling me and I was desperately in the phase where I needed to prove myself a full grown alpha. I basically kicked her out so I could sneak out at sunset. She still gave me a kiss before she left.”

For a moment Derek went silent, and Stiles didn’t have to try very hard to figure out why. By his own words, he’d been rude and short to Talia when she was just trying to be his mother, and then he never had the chance to see her again. As much pain as Claudia’s death had been on him, at least even as a child he’d known it was coming for a while and had gotten to spent weeks making the best memories with his mother, being held in her arms and listening to her soft lullabies before her mind had sparked out, followed by her body. Those were the memories that kept him going. 

“I met Kate later that night, and she was so happy. She kept giving me small kisses and smiling the entire time. She wouldn’t tell me why though, and she kept saying it would just be a surprise. I thought maybe some sort of courting gift. She kept asking me to tell her how much I loved her, over and over, and I said it. I was so entranced by her. She let me go a few hours later, telling me to think of her when I got home, and when I walked closer and closer back home I noticed the smell of smoke. It wasn’t until I could hear the bells ringing and see the orange glow of it in the distance did I realize that the castle was half engulfed in flames. I could hear the townspeople running frantically around trying to get water or whatever they could to get it out, but most of them couldn’t even get close to the castle. They had put rings of mountain ash around the doors, so the wolves like me couldn’t pass, and for the humans the heat of the fire made sure they couldn’t get far inside. My family had all been in their chambers fast asleep or just about and they all burned. Cora had snuck into my room and noticed I was gone, so she went to Laura and the two of them snuck out too to bring me back before anyone else noticed and I got in trouble.  My uncle only survived because his wife had been human and managed to break the circle around their chambers, but even though he dragged her out she died from the burns and smoke.”

He swallowed hard. “Kate had intended for me to be left without any family, alone and left to her mercy. Nearly my entire family and two thirds our household died that night, everything down to the secret passages I had shown to Kate had been blocked off and sent ablaze. Laura, Cora and I just sat at the edge of the forest watching the flames die down in shock. We felt every spark flush out through our pack bond. It felt like the worst nightmare imaginable, and for a while I thought that I’d have to wake up soon. Our healer Deaton found us in the morning, still just staring, all three of us covered in the ashes and soot. I can still remember marveling at the two small clean tracks my sisters’ tears made on their cheeks. I just felt numb.”

Derek was a heavy weight on Stiles’ chest, but he embraced him, holding Derek as tight as he could. The guilt was palpable in his words, and it had obviously been strain on him ever since, on top of the grief he no doubt felt. A cathartic relief of his pain and sorrow was necessary or else he was going to slow crumble away before Stiles’ eyes. 

“I can’t— I can’t say your actions had no affect on what happened Derek,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “But nothing you did, nothing, makes what happened your fault. Kate tricked you, used you, and hurt you. Don’t let her drag you down further for the rest of your life. Grieve, but don’t drown in it.”

They just lay there, their heartbeats and chests rising in unison. 

“You’re sure not scared of me? A _beast_?”

There was no beat of hesitation in Stiles’ answer. “No. I told you.”

Derek pulled back to look him in the eyes with a smile. “Did you know that our hearing is strong enough that we can hear heartbeats? A perfect lie detector.”

“That’s so unfair,” Stiles groaned then laughed. “So what’s your verdict then, my king?”

The smile on Derek’s face shifted into something even warmer, looking down at Stiles in a way that almost made him want to blush. “What?”

Derek leaned down and gave him a kiss so soft that Stiles felt so innocent and embarrassed at the sudden reminder of the stickiness and soreness to his ass. “You’re a special one Stiles Stilinski. Most other people would be running for the hills at this point.”

“Hale,” Stiles reminded him with a cluck on his tongue. “And I’m not like most people. The over-activeness and lack of filter must have clued up in already.”

Derek hummed, then settled back to the mattress. “Must have slipped my mind somehow.”

Stiles stuck his tongue out, but when he went back to settle against Derek, the unpleasantness of his lower regions had him shifting again and again until Derek gave a mock growl of annoyance. He flipped back the covers and slipped out, wincing when the fine hairs around his pubic region pulled as he straightened up. When he turned Derek was unabashedly checking out his body, eyes roaming up and down in a way that both made Stiles want to cover himself with his hands and jump back into the bed. “I’ve got to wash this died cum off of me in the bath, thank you very much. Remind me to never fall asleep right after sex again please.”

Derek just raised one thick eyebrow in amusement. 

“Don’t give me that look!” Stiles laughed. “It’s all your fault!”

Again Derek didn’t gift him with words, a smile crossing his lips as he lay back and closed his eyes. Stiles just rolled his eyes, picking up a robe to set out to snag a servant outside the door to prepare the water for him. The joys of martial life. 

 

—————————————————————

 

Alan Deaton was a much different healer than Melissa, while her workshop was overflowing with bright plants and herbs for medical purposes, everything bright and airy, Deaton had everything carefully sorted away and out of sight, a more stoic air to the place when Stiles walked in. 

It also didn’t help Stiles stop feeling unnerved when the man came close to him and absolutely no scent came off of him, no indication of who he was. 

But he was quick and methodical with unwrapping the bandage from around Stiles’ throat, hands blissfully cool when he lightly tipped up Stiles’ chin as he sat on the table to inspect the cut. “Thankfully it was a clean, shallow cut. It should be completely gone without a mark within the next week or less, your highness.”

Stiles had first rushed down to Deaton’s work space after realizing that he hadn’t asked about his friends and what had happened to them. At first the unamused the look that man he shot him as he burst in had slowed him down, but then he saw, among the few soldiers injured enough to not be able to recoup in their own beds, Scott, looking a bit paler than was norm and Kira sitting beside his bed. She had turned at the noise his entrance made, and while Stiles winced that the dark blue and purpling bruise around her nose, she smiled and stood up for the stool she was sitting at. 

“It looks worse than it feels, trust me.” She said, gingerly prodding the slightly swollen bridge of her nose. 

Still Stiles felt absolutely terrible and he moved to hug her. “Thank you so much for what you did Kira. Without you I probably wouldn’t be able to even say my thanks.”

“Slightly embarrassing to think about that.”

They both turned to see Erica walking in the door way. The skin of her face was nowhere near as burned and abused as it had looked after whatever Kate had thrown in her face, though the usually fair skin was still blotchy and red. She crossed her arms, eyes darting back and forth between the pair of them, her now signature smirk alarmingly absent from her chapped lips. 

“You can’t blame yourself for that,” Kira said, absently rubbing Erica’s arm. “She threw powered wolfsbane in your face. You’re lucky you didn’t end up going blind.”

Erica just grunted, turning to Stiles who just smiled at her. “I’m glad you're okay then, though I can’t say Derek must be particularly pleased that I was a whistleblower on the whole werewolf thing.”

“I’m just glad you finally know everything, and Derek and I have talked it over. Everything’s come to a nice understanding.” He turned to Kira, eyes looking her up and down questioningly. “You’re not one of them too are you? I mean, I saw some flash of orange in there, but you didn’t have the claws or teeth like they did.”

Kira laughed, shaking her head. “No, I’m not a wolf like Erica or Derek. “ Stiles let out a sigh of relief just as she continued on. “I’m what’s called a Kitsune in my homeland. More of a fox than wolf.”

“I’m going to have to read up on all my lore, aren’t I?” Stiles groaned as both girls laughed. 

A weak voice interrupted their laughter, all three heads snapping around to Scott, trying valiantly but unsuccessfully to push himself to a sitting position. “Sounds like a party going on in here.” Stiles immediately found himself kneeling beside his friend as Deaton gave Scott a warning look that immediately had the beta sheepishly lowering himself back down. Thick white bandages wrapped around his chest, but he looked as bright eyed as ever. 

“Are you alright?” Stiles asked, aghast as whatever kind of wound he knew had to be beneath the cloth, but Scott just waved him off. 

“You think anything those knuckle heads can throw at me can keep me down?”

Stiles scoffed, but put a hand to his cheek. “You’re great Scott, but you’re not indestructible.”

“Your shining knight here got a great big slash across his chest by one of the _knuckle heads_ and would have quite quickly bled out if his highness King Derek hadn’t found him and given him the bite.” Deacon lifted the sheet so that he could remove a much smaller rectangle of red tinted cloth, but when he lifted it off, there was no bite beneath it despite the blood and he gave an approving hum. “Good. He obviously already took the bite or he’d be dead by now, but there’s always checking. The cut on his chest should be healed too within days.”

Kira beamed at Scott but Stiles’ eyebrows went up. “There’s a chance it wouldn’t have worked?”

Obviously some sort of rudimentary information that Stiles wasn’t aware of from the fact that Deaton looked around two second from rolling his eyes. Erica swooped in instead. 

“Only a bite from an alpha can turn a werewolf, so if I were to give you a bite right now it wouldn’t result in much more than a sore arm for you. On top of that, an alpha would need to ask the royal family for permission before turning anyone unless in emergency cases, and turning against people’s will is a crime punishable by death. Anyway, the bite isn’t always a surefire way to turn a human. Sometimes the body can reject the venom, or if a person is too close to death the heart can’t pump the venom through the blood to the entire body and they’ll just die.” Her hand waved to Scott, who was listening enraptured. “Honestly, he was a close case. Derek was really worried how you would react if he didn’t make it.”

“Touching, really, the concern for my well being,” Scott grumbled, but Stiles just laughed. 

“Shut up, he saved your life no matter what circumstances.”

Now Scott was almost completely unscathed from his brush with death, color returned completely to his cheeks and gaping wound healed down to a small, nearly healed scabbing by two days later. Apparently he’d found the whole incident to live even more for each day, though Stiles had never know himself or his friend to ever be particularly reserved in the first place, and when Kira next was with Stiles, he had noticed a flower tucked behind her ear in dark, curling locks that she kept touching with a soft, blushing smile. When he looked at her pointedly, she rubbed on of the petals absentmindedly. 

“Scott gave me flowers, nothing special just picked out of the gardens, but—“ Her eyes were downcast, but her cheeks nearly glowed with a rosy complexion. “I think it’s the beginning of courtship.”

Stiles ducked his head down a bit to catch her eye, himself smiling when she glanced back to him. “I can tell that you’re pretty happy about that.”

She bit her lip. “If you’re uncomfortable with it I’d understand. He is your best friend.”

“He _is_ my best friend, and quite recently so are you. I know plenty about Scott and he’s prone to his crushes, yes, but I’ve never seen him so smitten so quickly. I think you two are rather suited for each other especially.” The words were true, though he hadn’t stopped to think about them especially, but the unshieldable brightness that spread across Kira’s face was well worth it. She wrapped her arms around his neck for a moment, propriety be damned, and he hugged her back, basking in her happiness soaking the air like sunshine. 

“Oh thank you!”

Stiles snorted. “I don’t think it would have even mattered if I said no. If you two truly like each other, enough for a courtship, I don’t really think that my opinion would matter too terribly.”

“Of course it would. You matter too much to the both of us.”

“Or you’d just do all the courting where I wouldn’t notice. Regardless, Scott isn’t that subtle,” Stiles said dryly with a sardonic smile. 

A quiet knock at the door and Deaton walked through with Derek right behind, a small upward curve to his mouth. “Happy news I take it?”

Kira pulled back, smoothing at the silk of her skirt even as she still smiled. 

“You could say that,” Stiles said, watching as Deaton put down the small kit he was prone to carrying about with him and unraveled the final bandage from his throat, Derek stopping only for a moment to kiss his cheek. 

“All healed, just wait for the last bit of redness and irritation to go down and there should be less than a scratch mark left,” Deaton said, his concealed tone incredibly satisfied for the man himself. 

Stiles was mostly just glad to be rid of the scratchy material wrapped around the more delicate skin of his neck, the edge rubbing uncomfortably at times against his mating bite. Derek stood right behind him as Deaton finished his final examination, and let out a soft sigh.

“Just in time too, I should say,” Deaton continued, balling up the white material and stuffing back into his bag. “If what your previous physician had told us is all accurate and your cycle stays true, heat should be hitting you any time within the next few days. Have you felt any changes consistent with your previous heats, anything we should be looking out for?”

Stiles felt his cheeks heat with fire at the subject, especially to the low chuckle Derek let out. With all that had been going on, he’d almost completely forgotten it was almost time for his cycle, dear lord. Well, no longer any virgin worries. “No, no. I think it should all be well.” He turned to look over his shoulder to Derek. “It hits hard when it happens, but I’ll certainly have plenty of time to seclude myself even more in the castle once it does.”

Derek listened dutifully, then hummed. “No leaving the castle until after your heat, and please, keep Kira or Scott with you at all times. At least to ease my mind.”

He certainly didn’t need a babysitter, but it had only been a little while since the Argents had found their way in and understandably everyone was a bit on edge. He looked to Kira who stood a bit aside, and at her encouraging nod, he gave a dramatic sigh. “Fine. If it’ll stop you from being such a sourwolf.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your kudos! And feel free to leave comments as well!! Feedback always gets me really riled up to write!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for such a wait! A lot of personal things just popped up and I barely had any time to spare, but now everything's settled down and now we can get back on track! I'll be resuming my schedule of updating relatively weekly, sometime earlier than that, sometimes a little later. Just give or take a few days! Now to try to make it up to you all, here's a brand new chapter, featuring something a lot of you were more than excited for!

Days were remarkably unremarkable. Stiles spent his time sorting through the library, looking in the more tucked away corners for the works on the whole _wolf_ situation now that he has the time. It was absolutely fascinating and more than once he’d asked his friends to shift for him.

Scott had puffed up with pride when his face morphed before Stiles’ very eyes sharper, gruffer, and all together animalistic. Of course, that had quickly disappeared when, as Stiles’ hands traced over his new features, the consort laughed. “Where did your eyebrows go Scotty?”

Scott quickly jerked back, the look of confused annoyance looking even odder and somewhat even more puppyish with the tips of his fangs poking out over his bottom lip. “What?”

“Maybe all that hair shifted down to your sideburns. Nice look by the way.” Stiles wasn’t even trying to conceal his laughter now. 

Now Scott crossed his arms. “I just turned in front of you, and all you can focus on is my facial hair.” 

Stiles’ smile just grew wider, fingers touching the course hair to the side of his face. He was never known to keep his thoughts to himself. “Reminds me of when you tried to grow out your facial hair a little while ago. Grew out strong but in patches.” He paused for a moment. “Do you think you’d have better luck now? Maybe that’s why Derek’s scruff game is so strong!”

Scott had promptly shifted back right away and spent the rest of the afternoon trying to subtly touch his eyebrows as if to reassure himself that they were still there and as bushy as ever.

It was obvious that Stiles’ heat was going to be hitting anytime soon. He found himself hit by a few sudden hot flashes, quickly stripping down the unnecessary outer layers he was forced to wear or rushing away if it was an inappropriate setting. Being away from Derek was much harder for him and he just found himself relying much more on his alpha’s touches. Before, Stiles would have found this part of their bond to be so much more repulsing, being so needy and open without thinking, but it never felt like a power being held above him. Instead, it was soft and so much more loving. He was trusting Derek and his husband was showing his appreciation for it.

Stiles was eating much more, always ravenous when they sat down to eat and scarfing down to much that even Derek and Cora with their already wolfish appetites gave him weird looks as he reached for his third helping with no hesitance. Peter just gave him a leering look that he did his best to ignore. 

Peter did manage to corner him however, one day while Derek was off dealing with the council and Stiles had been walking to his room more absentmindedly with a book he most certainly hadn’t snuck out of the library under of the keeper’s nose. Peter’s hand had shot out to grab Stiles by the chin, yanking it up with a sharp force that had Stiles gasping for a moment, startled.

“I see you’re all good as new,” Peter mused, eyes sharply and _noticeably_ jumping from his the spot the knife had nut him to the mating mark mid side of his neck. 

Stiles pulled himself out of his grasp with a hard step backwards, holding the book tightly against his chest. “Thank you for your concern Peter.” The words very obviously fell flat as he tried to scoot around the king’s right hand. 

“You know,” Peter started and Stiles didn’t even resist the urge to roll his eyes, knowing he wouldn’t like whatever was going to come out with that self righteous tone. “It’s good to have you in top shape for your heat. You already smell delicious, so it wont be long now. Maybe a day or so. You’re likely going to set off Derek’s rut, and alphas in general aren’t known for their impressive restraint.” He smiled and gave a teasing bite, teeth snapping. 

Stiles never felt more revolted and this time just strode past the man as he laughed, mouth sourly turned down. 

Once again he was forced to stop when that same clawed grip grabbed his wrist, squeezing so hard Stiles swore he could feel the bones grinding under his skin. He whirled around, pain twisting his frown deeper, but when he tried to do like before and pull himself away from his uncle-in-law, Peter just used it to yank him closer, until his breath was blowing into Stiles’ face. 

“Don’t forget who you are,” he growled, any sort of amusement completely gone from his voice. “You’re the omega I had to all but _force_ Derek to take on, you’re here as a hole to knot and to pop out little heirs for the kingdom. It’s what you’re good for, so make sure this heat counts.” Stiles cringed away, but Peter wasn’t done yet. “If only you were actually a werewolf, maybe you’d be worth something.”

Finally, those fingers unwound and Stiles wasted no time, speed walking a bit to hurry from the man down the hall as prickling heat tingled his face. 

Of course he knew that wasn’t true, at least in regards of his supposed uselessness. Stiles was sure Derek didn’t see him as a broodmare, and loved him for his mind, despite the many things that should be more deterring than attractive. He could tell in the way that Derek hadn’t pressed him for sex after their first night, only content to hold Stiles in his arms every night, wrapped around him like a constant furnace that would have Stiles waking up in the morning covered in a sheen on sweat but comforted. The way that Derek’s eyes were soft when they were alone, the smallest touched they allowed themselves in others company. 

But Peter’s words just pushed the ideals that had swamped Stiles ever since his presentation. He was not a man of his own merit, but a prize to be displayed on the size and an object to grow a batch of heirs. That was his one fear he could admit to even after all the process he and Derek had made in their relationship. That once he grew pregnant Derek wouldn’t see him as his husband anymore, but solely as the thing carrying his child. He’d seen it happen before with alphas, so consumed with their unborn children they all but ignore their actual mates in the process. 

He shook away that thought process, storming through the door to their private chambers to see Derek settled comfortably in their bed with his back resting against the headboard. Stiles threw the book with more aggression than strictly necessary onto the truck at the foot of the bed and stopped beside Derek, arms crossed tightly. “I might end up pushing your uncle off one of the highest towers one day soon if he keeps his antics up.”

Derek just snorted, eyes glancing up from the document his was scanning for a moment. “I know he’s an adjustment, but he’s harmless.”

“Harmless?” Stiles snatched the documents from Derek’s hand. Being brushed off was not doing anything to appease his growing irritation. “If Peter corners me one more time I swear I’m going to go crazy and just start screaming?”

At that, Derek’s brows furrowed and he sat up straight, reaching out to take hold of Stiles’ hand in his own. “What did he say Stiles?”

Stiles pressed his lips tightly together for a moment, Derek’s response was to give his hand a light tug as if to push him to talk. Stiles only averted his eyes. There really wasn’t any need to upset him more and cause problems between him and Peter. Peter already hated him plenty. Derek just pulled harder until Stiles all but fell into his lap. Stiles managed to twist around and settle between his legs, resting against Derek’s chest and pulling his arms around him. One of the side affects of an oncoming heat was sleepiness to conserve energy for the week to coming, and already so comfortable that Stiles felt his eyes beginning to grow a bit heavy, head nestled back against the crook of his alpha’s shoulder. He huffed when Derek bumped his shoulder, still insistent. “What happened Stiles?”

He shifted uncomfortably for a moment, but realizing that it wasn’t something Derek was going to simply let go, he groaned. “It’s nothing I swear. It’s just that my heat’s coming and that doesn’t help anyone or anything.”

 

Derek was not so easily appeased. His arms squeezed a bit tighter around Stiles and he gently kissed over the side of Stiles’ neck, as if that was the way to coax it out of him. 

It was quite efficient it seemed, the way his scruff brushed against the mating mark made Stiles shiver with pleasure along with the way Derek’s scent soothed and surrounded him was making all those inhibitions slide away. Stiles sighed, scrambling for the words to retell the story in a way that wouldn’t lead to Derek ripping his uncle’s head off, however much he might actually have liked to see that. “There were just the _implications_ that I would be all but unnecessary if it wasn’t for my status as an omega. That this upcoming heat should be a productive one.”

Derek was much too still for Stiles’ liking for a moment, face still pressed against his neck and the shallow rise and fall of his broad chest the only indication he hadn’t been momentarily turned to stone.

“Derek?” Stiles prompted softly.

Finally Derek moved again, turning Stiles in his arms with an ease that would make him probably grumble about it later so that his legs were instead thrown across Derek’s lap and they could actually see one another, Stiles could actually see the red bleeding into those beautiful green irises. 

“Don’t let anyone, I don’t care how important they hell they or anyone else thinks they are, make you feel like your only an omega.” A rougher hand touched his cheek in the softest gesture. “You’re my husband Stiles, wit, mouth, moles and all.”

Stiles couldn’t help but let out a chuckle there, eyes crinkling at the sides. “I wasn’t worried about you Derek. After all, I’m such a catch anyways.”

“Don’t oversell yourself there too much.”

“You love me too much.” Stiles laughed when Derek rolled his eyes, playfully shoving at his shoulder, but he bit his lip unsure whether to voice his concerns still swimming in his mind. But then the decision came easily.

Nothing good had come so far from hiding between the two of them. 

“But-“ Stiles started, gaze suddenly dropping to about Derek’s chest, suddenly very conscious. “They are right about one thing. A heir is important for the country, especially that we’re in the middle of a long standing war. There’s a lot riding on this heat. If I don’t get pregnant then, there’s an almost impossible chance until my next one in three months. After what happen with Kate and her assassins, waiting that long is a risk.”

A tense note flooded Derek’s scent and made Stiles just want to smooth it away instead of causing it. “Kate and her men just proved that everything is a risk, no matter what we do. Don’t dwell on that. And don’t stress yourself sick over it. If we get pregnant this heat, wonderful, but if not we’ll just wait. My sister is still more than alive and capable of taking over if something awful would happen to me, which it wont, but the point still stands. There’s only one important point.” Stiles glanced up to see a frown marring his face. “Do you even want to get pregnant yet? I mean, we can still spend your heat together and there are tricks to avoid a child.”

“I don’t know.” It was the only honest answer he could give. “It’s a scary thought, you know? I’m barely an adult and I can barely take care of myself but when I think about it,” Stiles laid a hand, fingers splayed, over his clearly empty stomach. “It’s exciting and terrifying, the idea of bringing a baby into this world. But it’s also ours, Derek. Something just of you and me and I can’t help but fall in love with that idea.”

Derek’s hand laid over his own, the tanner skin a darker contrast, and Stiles saw something passing over his eyes that told him he’d made the right choice. 

“Pup.”

Maybe Derek was a little too simulated by the idea. “What?”

Derek laughed through his words. “Wolves call our children pups. So it’d be our little pup.”

“Oh.” Then a thought came to Stiles. “It’s not going to be hairy right? No baby werewolf sideburns when it pops out? Because I know the whole saying about a mother’s love, but that’d seriously be crossing the line.”

Those thick eyebrows settled down low again when Derek fixed him with a deadpan stare. “Nice moments with you are impossible aren’t they.”

“What about litters? How common are those because one’s enough for me at a time or you can do the honor of popping them out when the time comes.”

Derek just shoved him off.

 

—————————————————————

 

It finally came to a start that night.

Stiles woke up squirming, at the very edge of the bed to escape from Derek’s arms and the blanket but still sweating despite the cool air and only wearing the thinest night shift he owned. He was dazed for a moment, blinking in the darkness before a whine began building up within his throat as the stirring desire began striking a cord in his mind. He was already rock solid hard, leaking at the tip where it rubbed abrasively against the linen of the bedsheet as he lay on his stomach panting. It wasn’t the first time he’d had a midnight wakeup call to his own mounting pleasure. Instead his fingers wandered up his own thigh, to his hole that was already pulsing and leaking an obscene amount of slick onto himself. 

Circling his own hole teasingly had his eyes fluttering shut with a small moan for a moment before slipping the first finger in, stretching out the tightness of the muscle with the slide of his own natural lubrication. Soon he added a second finger, scissoring back and forth with a growing fever. By the time the third finger was added, Stiles was using his other free hand to pull one of his legs higher, to try to reach that mounting spot. It was close but not good enough, the angle awkward, and his wrist starting to ache after a while. Then a soft inhale gave him a hard slap of a reminder. 

He had a perfect specimen of an alpha there just perfect for his use. 

Stiles looked over, even as his fingers continued to slowly pump in and out of himself. Derek was still completely dead to the world, laid on his back instead of curled around Stiles as usual in his absence. Even in his sleep though, each deep breath he took only flooded him with the pheromones Stiles knew were just flooding out of every pore and clearly already affected him by the rising tent to the covers covering the lower half of his body. Suddenly it was as though there was nothing more tantalizing, more enthralling, than Derek, the pine making his nose tingle and the musk his head spin. 

Stiles let out a pained whimper, torn between wanting to just bring himself over the ever rising brink with his own hand or refrain for a moment for the pleasure burning through him to get to something better. 

The choice was easily made after the thrusts of his own fingers were not even nearing the pleasure that they had in his previous heats, so hyperaware that an alpha lay not even a foot from him. Stiles managed to pull his hand away from himself, heavily pulling himself up to his knees and pushing the covers to the foot of the bed with shaking arms. He straddled Derek’s upper thighs,  fingers fumbling with the loose lacing of Derek’s breeches he wore to bed as Derek finally blinked away, confused and aroused. “Stiles? What-“

Stiles couldn’t even find it in himself to form an answer, loosening the pants just enough to pull out Derek’s already rapidly hardened cock and line it to his own slick drenched hole, bottoming out immediately. Both of them let out loud groans at the feeling, Derek’s hands coming up to Stiles’ hips in a bruising grip that he barely felt. 

There was no burn at the sudden intrusion like Stiles knew to normally expect, the heat letting nothing filter past where they were connected other than where they were joined together. He only left a few seconds to adjust before lifting himself up to slide back down in a brutal pace. Derek’s hips began snapping up to meet his thrusts down with enough force that took the breath from Stiles’ lungs and made him have to steady himself with hands on Derek’s chest. 

“Oh god Stiles.” Derek’s moan made Stiles whine out loud, head tipped back. Suddenly those large calloused hands were moving upwards from his hips, skating over his ribs with such a gentle touch that made him shiver, to help relieve him of the nightgown he still wore over his head. When those fingers came back down and pinched at the hardened nubs his nipple had become, he cried out, hips stuttering. 

Already so close to his brink, it was only a few more thrusts down before Stiles was already cumming, cock untouched and spurting between the two of them, body arching. 

But Derek was nowhere near satisfied, quickly rolling them over so he hovered above Stiles, held up by his arms bracketing his omega’s head and still inside him. “God you’re amazing.”

His orgasm allowed Stiles a brief moment when his mind cleared, staring into Derek’s eyes as their faces were separated by a hairs width. The pleasure was boarding on painful when Derek, in an attempt to give Stiles a moment to recuperate, kept his movement down to slow, shallow thrusts that brushed against his sensitive prostate. “I think-“ his words were caught in his dry throat, but a smile curved to his lips. “I think my heat started.”

Derek gave a low chuckle that turned to a growl part way through, his head dipping down to scent along Stiles’ neck. “You know,” Stiles said, voice increasingly breathless. “If I didn’t know better I’d say you have a thing for my neck, you beast.”

Derek only proceeded to nip at the thin skin there, sucking with the one intention of bringing dark marks to the pale skin. He readjusted himself on his knees, pulling Stiles’ ass a bit higher up, and soon those thrusts were becoming deeper, more purposeful. “I’ve got a thing for all of you.” The deep timber of his voice had Stiles squirming, his cock doubling its effort to fill once again. Derek bent a bit more while still thrusting into him, mouthing kissing and biting its way down to Stiles’ chest which arched up to meet him. “I’ve got a thing for your body. For your moles. For your soft omega curves.” Leaving one arm to hold him self up, Derek pinched and rolled one nipple once again while ravishing the other with his mouth. Once he was satisfied with it, puffy, deep red and slick with his saliva, he switched, leaving Stiles to only swallow his own gasps and loud moans and hanging on by the hand clawing down Derek’s back and tangled in his dark hair.

After a while, proud of his work flushing Stiles’ chest a mixture of pale and pink with blooming purpling love marks, spurred on by his husband’s unintelligible curses, Derek pulled back so that he was kneeling between Stiles’ legs, hands doing the impossible task of spreading his legs further. Stiles’ eyes were fixed on Derek’s whose’s gaze was on the spot where his cock kept driving in and out of his hole. Then one of the alpha’s hands released his leg to lightly tease and trace Stiles’ already stretched rim, which made him gasp anew. It was already impossible, the amount for pure ecstasy coursing through his body, but each touch was a new bolt of pleasure. Derek clearly wasn’t done with his thread earlier either. “I’ve got a thing for your hole. Mine and mine only.” His voice was more animalistic now, dangerous, than Stiles had even heard it before and his poor straining cock still gave a jump at it. As if taking notice, Derek’s hand gave his rim only a few more mind numbing touches before sliding up to his cock, hand now slicked with the lubricant probably more than staining the sheet with how much was produced judging by the wet sound with every thrust. “I’ve got a thing for your cock too, you know. All of you.”

“Please Derek! My god-“ Stiles eyes finally squeezed shut, all he could focus on the the pleasure that felt hot enough to burn him to a crisp, the tightening in his balls. Derek timed the pumping of his hand with the snap of his hips and Stiles’ moans quickly shifted to high keens and that peak approached again. 

This time however, he could tell that Derek was much closer too and the telltale pull on his rim growing with every time Derek pulled out and back in that his knot was growing, to lock them together. Derek was too far for him to grip with his hands again, so Stiles had to be content with gripping the bed sheet till his knuckles turned white. Derek’s thrusts began to grow more erratic and hard, thumbing the slit of his head with each pass. It was when the base of Derek’s cock had swelled so large that it was impossible for him to pull out and instead he kept shallow thrusts, now fucking Stiles on his knot, that Stiles’ body seized up and he came in a violent orgasm. A few more thrusts and Stiles and Derek moaned in unison at the sensation of Derek’s cum beginning to fill him up, held by the knot. 

Coming down for a bit from the high, the couple couldn’t move apart, Derek instead resuming the position above Stiles held by his arms, peppering the blissed omega with soft kisses. Stiles had never been more thankful for his husband’s more than apparent fitness. It would have been kind to shift to find a position more comfortable for the both of them, but at the moment Stiles felt as though all his muscles had been disintegrated in that burning passion fire and Derek didn’t seem to have any problem with his strength though Stiles pleasantly noted the sheen of sweat that clung to him and the way he panted, like any normal man. 

“You alright?” Derek softly hummed, nosing along the path he’d made on Stiles’ skin. 

It took Stiles a second to find his words, a hand lifted to lazily comb through Derek’s soft dampened hair. “More than. It’s gone down for a little bit, it’s just day one so we’ll probably be able to get a bit of rest before I’m begging for you to fuck me again.”

Derek lifted his head a bit to smirk at him, a little devilish light in those green eyes. “Oh the horror of it. The very thought if it has me shaking.”

Stiles just rolled his eyes, settling back into the feather downed mattress and letting the haze floating in his mind stretch over. He was already tired and the heat, his of which usually lasted around a good five or six days, was just ramping up. What was now just bursts of lust soon dissolved onto a nearly constant sex craving state until satisfied, and sleep and nutrition was be small and far between.

By the time the heat was over, the days spent locked away inside their chamber had mostly blurred to one. But Stiles could pin instances like Derek coaxing him to eat fruits at a point before they licked the juices off their fingers and each other, or when they had laid at a point tied together, Stiles back fit snuggly to Derek’s chest as the alpha’s hands wanderingly created and mapped constellations between the marks on his skin, or when maybe two or three days in his rut hit, the shorter cycle coinciding with the height of Stiles’s heat. All he could remember of it was the flash of red that overtook Derek’s eyes and how in the moment Stiles became wetter with slick then he even had during a heat.

They ended the heat with slow, heady sex with Stiles straddled atop Derek just like they had started. 

The next day, after sleeping straight through for a good portion of it, Stiles stood before a mirror and opened his robe after a much need long soak in the bath. Bruises in the exact shape of Derek’s fingers covered his hips, love marks littering every part of his skin from his neck to between his thighs. They were fine, most of them. Stiles didn’t mind the reminders of the near week he had spent solely in bed with his mate, but the ones high on his neck would be a hassle. He poked at them and groaned. “You don’t understand the meaning of the word conspicuous.”

Derek replaced him in the tub, next hot water washing away the layer of filth on his body, alone after Stiles had refused to bath along with him. After the numbing state of heat was gone, while it was a somewhat pleasant reminder, Stiles was much too sore and much too untrusting of his husband to keep his hands to himself. Looking very well relaxed, Derek watched him, a stupid self satisfied grin on his face. “You’re a mated omega who just went through a heat,” he said. “They didn’t think we were up here playing chess.”

“It’s still embarrassing,” Stiles muttered yanking the robe shut. “They don’t need to know what’s been going on.”

“They’ll just know what a wonderful, attentive husband you have.” Now Derek’s face was just annoying. “We should all be so lucky.”

Stiles only answered with a snort and dipped his hand in the water to splash it at him. Whatever the truth, Derek’s ego didn’t need an inflation.

 

—————————————————————

 

“Isn’t there a way you can tell?” Again, Stiles stood in Deaton’s healer chambers, about an unwelcome as a monarch could be judging by the man’s unamused expression. “It’s been three weeks since my heat, and I’m going to go crazy soon if one more person asks me one more time.”

That _was_ infuriating, yes, some members of the court seemingly abandoning all usual pretenses to tell him all about their mates’ or their own pregnancy tales or asking him irritating questions like preferences of primary gender, while at the same time managing to always assume and press the importance of the secondary. 

Heaven forbid their first child was not born to become alpha.

But it was his own worry that was racking his mind. The way small bouts of dizziness or nausea made his heart leap, even if they quickly faded and he wasn’t sure if it had come just out of sheer want. Or the way he’d caught Derek a few time staring at him closely as if he could possibly see right through him to see a child growing if he looked hard enough, or if at night when he held him, Derek’s hand seemed to end up splayed out over Stiles’ stomach in his sleep.

Damn everyone else. Stiles didn’t care about giving them a heir to coo over. He only cared about giving Derek the family he so desperately craved even if he wouldn’t say a word to put the stress of it on Stiles’ shoulders.

Kira stood by his shoulder, looking pleadingly at Derek for his behalf while Scott and Erica both stood near the door, Erica her usual casual demeanor as she leaned against the wall and Scott so uncomfortably ridged as he was any single time Stiles mentioned anything with correlation to the fact he was a sexually active being. They really were like brothers.

“It really can’t do any harm,” Kira tried to prompt. “If anything, he can just start to take the necessary precautions for a healthy child from now.”

Deaton crossed his arms, looking between the pair of them for a moment, before he sighed. “I can’t promise you anything,” he said as Stiles smiled gratefully. “First thing’s first.” He turned away for a moment, moving to grab something from his workbench of tools and medicinal herbs, simply turning back with a small cup in his hand to extent to Stiles. “I hope you need to go to the bathroom, your majesty.”

Stiles didn’t much appreciate the sarcastic add-on of formalities when the man was asking him to piss in a cup, and he was a connoisseur of verbal irony, but he didn’t say anything as he took the cup and followed the healer’s pointed finger to a room for at least a shred of privacy. Kira took one hesitant step behind him, but when he motioned for her to stay (he would and always could piss on his own) he wasn’t sure who between them was more relieved. It took a moment under pressure but he managed to get the job done with an easy aim. 

If there was anything to be said of Deaton it was his professionalism. While Stiles handed him a what would have most people striking back in disgust, his face was stoic. What did surprise them all however was when Deaton pulled out a winebag and began to mix the contents into his provided sample.

“How are you going to tell from that?” Scott asked, clearly more interested now that the embarrassing part was through. 

“It’s said that something in the proteins in a pregnancy should mix with the wine and change to certain a certain shade.”

Deaton watched the mixture settle carefully and the four of them watched him carefully in turn, Stiles’ hand clenched tightly together. When Deaton’s shoulder’s slumped ever so slightly they already knew, and Stiles felt his heart break, ever such a tiny bit.

“I’m sorry Stiles.” It was sincere this time at least from the dark skinned man. “But it’s only the first heat you two have spent together. These things take time.”

Stiles nodded, tight lipped for a moment. “I’m feeling rather tired though. Thank you, but if you’ll excuse us.”

Deaton nodded, and Stiles couldn’t help but see the crack of sympathy in his eyes. Erica opened the door and the four of them began the walk back up the the royal chambers. Stiles stayed lost in thought for the majority of it, but when Kira’s hand snaked around his arm to give a gentle squeeze, he gave her a small clouded smile she returned.

At the door to his room, Stiles could tell that Scott had something just dying to burst past his lips, to with a small look he sent Kira in the room ahead of him and Erica away to do what she wished.

Scott immediately pulled him in for a hug, warm and familiar as they’d always been. “Dude, I’m really sorry. I know you wanted that.”

Stiles closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around Scott back, silent for a moment. “It’s alright,” he said finally, tone more resigned now. “It was expecting a lot I guess. But I was still kind of hopeful. I just want to make Derek happy.”

“Are you an idiot?” Scott pulled back but held Stiles’ shoulders, a brow raised. “I don’t even like the guy, but I can see that he’s good for you and you for him. Every time he looks at you the way mates should it makes me want to punch him a little less each time.” Stiles couldn’t help but snort at that. “You guys have so much time, no need to rush. You guys are no where near getting old and definitely enjoying each other’s company so it’s just a matter of mother nature.”

“You’re beginning to sound like your mom.” Oh. He could really go for one of those nurturing hugs Melissa gave that could always make him feel warm inside no matter what was going on. But Derek and Scott gave close seconds so he could survive. 

Scott just gave his crooked grin. “Thanks.” Then a beat. “Love you Stiles.”

Yeah, he definitely still felt warm inside. “Love you too Scotty.”

 

—————————————————————

 

Stiles paced back and forth in front of their bed, trying to figure out how he wanted to tell Derek their not yet fortunate news. He’d considered the option of just not, letting him figure it out when time obviously would tell, but he figured it best to just let it out in the open. 

Derek strode in and Stiles turned to talk but then took in the king’s appearance. He still wore his crown, which he said constantly he abhorred and only wore when required of him, and a wild, bright look filled his eyes. Stiles imminently went to him, meeting halfway. 

“The Argents are coming,” where the first words out of Derek’s mouth.

First Stiles thought to panic. A failed ambush? Another one of Kate’s schemes to kill them all? “How do you know? What are we going to do?”

“They sent us a letter out of the blue. They say they’re tired of this war depleting their resources and their people. They want to find a way to end it amiably with us.”

Then it became more clear. “They want to negotiate a truce? After all these years?”

Derek looked like he didn’t know which emotion he should be experiencing at the news. “Exactly.” Then his hands came up, shaking Stiles slightly in nervous energy. “This could be an end to it all.”

“We can’t trust Kate, after all she’s done to us! To you and your family! She’s just trying to find a way back in.”

Derek’s expression steeled. “We’ll never forget what she’s done,” he said. “It’s not her that sent the message. Her brother, crown prince Christopher is the one that wants to the war to stop. He’ll be coming in a week so we can begin negotiating in person. Despite his family, I’ve heard he’s a fair man.”

It was almost too good, but Stiles couldn’t help himself from smiling. No more war. No more Derek having to go off to fight battles. More prosperity for their people. Now he understood the rush of colliding emotions. “That’s wonderful news.”

Derek laid his forehead against Stiles. “That’s not my only news,” he said, smiling back. “Negotiations need a mediator. Someone high enough up in station to make an impact yet be neutral in standings. Though you may be a bit of an investment on his part, we’ve agreed to request your father come to act as mediator.”

The news stunned Stiles for a moment. “I’ll get to see my father?”

Derek nodded. “He’ll arrive the same day they do to ensure that there’s no conspiring with him, but yes. I know you’ve missed him.”

He surged forward to kiss Derek, pulling him down and trying to push as much of his thanks and love into the kiss. Derek certainly had no qualms about it, deepening the kiss and after a moment his hands reaching down to lift Stiles by his thighs, letting him cross his ankles around the alpha’s waist. Though they were still both fully dressed Stiles had no problems noticing Derek’s growing appreciating within his trousers. 

“Take me to our bed,” he said between kisses. “So I can show you just how much I appreciate you.”

Afterwards, when they laid breathless beside one another Stiles found himself truly less unbothered by the disappointing news of earlier. Peace was on the way and with that there was time. They’d have what they wanted yet. And if all went well to a much safer world for it.

Yes, perhaps it was a fool's dream, deep dow. Stiles knew as much, to hope for such a simple end to it all. He didn't much care to be anything but a fool in that moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh, I know some of you will be rather disappointed by the lack of bun in the oven, but don't worry! All good things come to those who wait! And we're also soon going to be having an influx of important characters, some retuning and some new! And lastly, as much as Stiles hopes, peace is not coming so nicely served. That's all I'm gonna say! The story is only halfway through, at the most!
> 
> Thank you for all your kudos! And feel free to leave comments as well!! They always gets me really riled up to write!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aww, here's something just nice and sweet for you all! I hope you enjoy! We're approaching a turning point in the story real soon.

Nothing compared to the feeling of Stiles seeing father again after so long without him. In usual John Stilinski style, instead of riding comfortably in the carriage, the king sat tall and proud on his horse, crown settled in his slowly receding brown hair. 

Stiles had been standing tucked comfortably into Derek’s side, but the moment his father quickly dismounted he rushed forward and found himself immediately wrapped around into his father’s arms once again. He pressed his face into the familiar comforting broad shoulders, the scent of what Stiles could only compare to old and well loved books surrounding him. 

If ever brought up, Stiles would say that the dust from his father’s coat got in his eyes. 

“I’ve missed you so much.” His father’s voice sounded thick and Stiles felt those arms tighten around him for another moment before finally loosening around him, though still keeping him in arms length. 

“You too Dad.” Stiles honestly hadn’t even realized just how much he missed his father up until that exact moment. As long as he could remember, especially after his mother’s death, Stiles couldn’t remember a time they’d spent more than a few days apart from each other.  “I hope that you didn’t exhaust yourself too much to get here. I know you certainly don’t feel old, but you know what Melissa says.”

His father just rolled his eyes, a good spirited smile on his face. “Stiles, trust me, I’m more than fine. Nothing’s gonna keep me from seeing my boy.”

Then in the corner of his eye he saw one of the guards hop down from his ride and stride over to pull open the carriage door, to which a very familiar auburn haired omega glided her way out with a smirk of those shiny pink lips. John only stepped aside far enough to let Lydia wrap her arms around Stiles with a shrieking laugh, both omegas comfortably nuzzling each other’s cheeks in a very familiar way. 

“What are you doing here Lydia?” Stiles gasped, feeling punch drunk on the sudden flood of happy, familiar scents he had been away from for so long. “No one told me you were planning on coming.”

One lily white hand flipped her hair over her shoulder. “That’s the point,” she said, sounding extremely pleased. “Everybody loves a lovely surprise. Especially as lovely as me.”

Stiles laughed and she placed a soft kiss to his cheek before turning, his hand tucked in the crook of her elbow, nudging him forward. “I hope everyone has been treating you well.”

Stiles could tell that Derek was none too pleased with the light insinuation, but seeing as they were still a good ten feet from feasible easy hearing distance the man said nothing. Instead Stiles just rolled his eyes. “Of course they have. Or you know I wouldn’t still be here.” 

He wound his other free arm through his fathers and began to lead them both to the straight where their intimate welcoming party waited. Kira, Scott and Boyd formed a small waiting party, the only people Stiles had thought required present. Derek stood front and center, and while he may have looked regal standing there, tall and chest puffed out, Stiles could easily see his nerves in the tension in his shoulders and the way his eyes were moving jerkily in his otherwise impassive face. Stiles just gave him a small encouraging smile as they approached. 

“Time for a proper introduction,” he said. “Dad, this is Derek, my husband. Derek, this is my Dad.” He looked back and further between them, hoping for warm greetings, but was somewhat disappointed. His father just looked at Derek with narrowed eyes, mouth pursed and Derek just seemed to stare back, looking like he was made of stone. After a beat, John extended a hand that he took, shaking between them perhaps a bit more tight than necessary. 

“Derek Hale,” His father said in a tone that Stiles close to groaning aloud and Lydia giving him a pained side glance. “I’ve heard enough about you these past years.” 

Stiles winced internally and that seemed to make Derek shrink a bit in on himself. “Likewise sir.” If the stories of the beast Derek was on the battlefield, though not quite as literally he’d learned they were, had been the only messages that had reached his father’s ears to testify to Derek’s character. All he could do was give his father a pleading look, squeezing his arm slightly.

“And then may I also introduce Lady Lydia Martin, one of my best friends from home.” Lydia grasped the soft green silk of her skirt with her free hand as she curtsied , curls shinning copper when her head dipped down. 

“It’s a pleasure your grace,” she said, smooth as ever. 

Derek gave a small incline of his head in return, but still looked vaguely uncomfortable. “Likewise, Lady Martin.” There was a moment of terse silence, Stiles’ mouth opening and closing as he searched from the proper words to move the conversation along even as his father stared down Derek and Lydia’s eyes bounced between the three of them sharply, before Boyd cleared his throat from behind Derek, and his alpha suddenly moved for action. “I’m sure the trip here was taxing and you’d all like to freshen up before dinner. I’m sure Kira can show you to the rooms that have been prepared for you.”

Stiles’ handmaid took a single step forward, gaze darting to Stiles for a second but then smiled, her own gracious curtsy. “I’d be honored.”

Servants appeared seemingly out of shadows as Stiles learned they usually did and went to the carriage to begin unloading the trunks of their personal affects, unsurprisingly more of them being for Lydia than the king. Then the group of them began on their way back inside, Stiles carefully extracting himself from the two other humans’ grips to go his his husband’s side in concern. 

“You alright?”

Derek looked down to him, looking already tired. “Your father certainly isn’t fond of me.”

Stiles leaned his head against Derek’s shoulder as they swayed with each step. “He just doesn’t know you,” he whispered back. “He’ll get to know you over these next few days and that’ll all change.”

He felt the jolt when Derek snorted. “What makes you so sure of that?”

“Because I love you, and my dad just wants what’s best for me. Which is you.” They stopped at the main staircase, Stiles stretching up to give him a kiss before they separated. Derek gave him the barest of smiles before turning to walk away to his study to prepare for the Argents’ arrival, Boyd at his side. Stiles watched him go for a moment before going to follow his father and friends, only to see the four of them standing on the lower steps watching him. Kira and Scott looked amused and unsurprised, Lydia’s face seemed fit to split with size of her grin, and his father only had both of his brows raised. Stiles could feel his face heating up from the attention and he hurried his pace to join them. 

“Things seem cozy here,” Lydia muttered, and Stiles threw her a glare over his shoulder as they reached the top of the steps. Kira led them in the opposite direction of he and Derek’s own private chambers, two impressive rooms across the hall from each other. 

“Either room, you’re grace,” Kira said, gesturing between the two. “They were both prepared this morning, and are quite the same.”

John didn’t look particularly interested, finger raised to tap at his lip for a moment as his mind visibly whirled away. “Kira Yukimura?” he said suddenly. “As in Lady Noshiko Yukimura’s daughter?”

Kira’s face brightened up and she gave a vigorous nod. “Yes! You know my mother, Your Grace?”

“Know her?” John laughed. “Your mother was one of the most terrifying and brilliant woman I’ve ever had the chance to meet in my life. So you must be an equally wonderful woman.”

Stiles could have laughed at  how the compliment turned Kira almost faint with joy, round cheeks turned a beautiful shade of pink when her head ducked down. “You’re very kind, Your Grace.”

“He’s always been that way,” Scott said, proudly laying a hand on Kira’s shoulder. “And he’s right.” Stiles didn’t know it was possible for her to turn any pinker. 

The servants carted over all the luggage, standing waiting behind the lot of them. “If you don’t mind,” Lydia started, reaching for the door closest to her. “I’d like to freshen up before we eat some lunch. And Scott and I have a bit of talking to get to.” She flashed a smile to Kira before disappearing into the room, her things and Scott following, though the latter went with a bit of a scared expression.

“Don’t worry,” Stiles said to Kira who watched. “She probably just gonna grill him about how obviously head over heels he is for you.”

She laughed and rolled her eyes, hand going up the play with a lock of black hair behind her ear. “She seems like a very good friend to have. A strong minded woman.”

“She is,” Stiles agreed. “You both are.”

Kira beamed. “I’ll go make sure that everything’s set for lunch once everyone’s ready.”

John had been waiting in the doorway, watching his son with warm brown eyes. “It seems like you’ve been settling in comfortably. I’ll admit I had my worries.”

Stiles passed him into the room, noting how it was exceptionally fine, like a smaller version of his own chambers with Derek. Clearly Derek was trying to impress. “It was a bit scary at first,” he admitted, sitting perched on the edge of the bed. “I really didn’t know Derek or anyone else for that matter, but that went away quite quickly. Everyone was so welcoming, and I had some friends within a few days like Kira. Not to mention this place is quite beautiful when you actually look at it.”

His father just hummed low in his throat, crossing his arms and sitting beside him. “I was really worried,” he said, looking down at his lap. “I felt like I’d just given you away to god knows what without thinking. And the things I’ve heard, that man could be a brute to you and I wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. I regretted it every day these past weeks Stiles, and I kept trying to think up excuses to come see you.”

Stiles couldn’t help but laugh. “If you wanted to see me Dad, you could have just said that! _That man_ and I may not have known each when we got married and all this, but he loves me and I promise you that he’d never intentionally do anything to hurt me. I’ll be honest, we’ve had our ups and downs while getting to know each other, but I’m happy. He makes me happy.”

His father still didn’t looks convinced, but the corners of his mouth lifted at that. “That’s all that matters, that you’re happy then.”

“So don’t feel guilty then! I don’t see how any of my other suitors could have made me happier.”

“Maybe safer though perhaps,” John grumbled. “I heard all about that attack on the castle. You could have been killed Stiles.”

Almost had been, but there was no need to worry his dad further. “I’m clearly fine now, and as it is, thanks to Derek. You knew we’d be at war Dad, so some attacks are to be expected. Hopefully though, it’ll all be settled soon.”

“I’m your father, I’m supposed to worry.” John’s hand came up to his shoulder, rubbing comfortingly. “But I’m glad to hear that. Maybe I wouldn’t be so out of the loop if you sent me a letter more than just once in a long while.”

That had Stiles feeling a little guilty, shifting where he sat. “Sorry. I guess I just got a little preoccupied lately. But I’m glad you’re here now.” Absentmindedly, his hand went up to the locket around his neck, out of habit, tugging it on the thin chain. 

John clearly noticed the movement. “What’s that?”

“Oh,” Stiles looked down, then after a moment, reached back around his neck to unhook it and show it to his father. “Derek gave it to me a little while ago, when he was trying to court me.” He smiled at the memory of finding the small box meant for him. “Look, it even has the Stilinski fox on one side, and the Hale wolf on the other. “ Looking at it now, Stiles could see the resemblance in the engraved wolf to Derek, but he wasn’t sure if he wasn’t just reaching for it. 

That actually really made John smile, squirting a little bit to examine it. Then his fingers opened the locket up, finding the spaces inside still bare. He raised a brow to his son. 

“I still didn’t know what to put in there. I wanted the pictures to be special.” He gently took the locket back and bowed his head a little as he reached back to put it back on. “I was thinking — maybe a smaller version of the portrait of Mom hanging in your office at home would be nice as one.”

His father didn’t say anything for a moment, and Stiles was suddenly too preoccupied with the outside carvings on the locket, but when the king’s arms wrapped around him, he was quick to hug him back. “That sounds beautiful Stiles,” he said, voice sounding thick. “She’s be so happy for you. Above all, she wanted you to be mated to someone who loved you, like she loved me.”

“Then you made her proud Dad.” Stiles burrowed his face in his father’s shoulder, feeling once again like a small boy.

There was a comfortable silence for a moment, then a soft knock at the door. With one final squeeze, they separated, standing and smoothing down their clothes as they put their emotions back in check. 

“Come in,” John’s voice boomed and the door cracked open enough for Scott to poke his head in.

“Lydia says she’s all good to go down down if you two are.”

John spared Stiles a glance before nodding, and gesturing an arm from Stiles to go ahead of him, which he did. Lydia stood in the hallway, of course changed into another dress, this time a soft peach color and her hair piled up in ringlets atop her head. Of course, a tasteful amount of bosom and showing off an unmarked and unmated slender neck.

“You waiting on us?” Stiles said, incredulous. “How the tables have turned.”

Hazel eyes rolled. “I see things have improved greatly between you and your lovely lover,” she said, ignoring his jest. 

“He’s not my lover, Lydia, he’s my husband. You were there when we were married.”

“Of the two titles, I’d say that lover is more important.” She waved away his comment. “And according to Scott, that’s a title he’s gladly earned.”

Stiles scowled ahead of them at Scott who was in an animated discussion with his father as they began the walk to the Great Hall. “Scott shouldn’t be so eager to talk.”

“Oh don’t blame him,” Lydia said with a laugh. “I honestly just think he said what he did to try to distract me from asking him more about himself and that girl Kira. They really like each other don’t they. Puppy love is so cute.”

“Yeah, Scott’s really fallen for her. I’m telling you, I wont be surprised when they get mated one day.” Sooner than too much later for sure, from how enthusiastically Scott was courting the omega. Flowers and gifts, Stiles could tell the first time they’d kissed from when Kira had come to him before bed with reddened, slightly swollen lips and a dazed smile on her face. He would be happy to see the pair one day official. “They’re meant for each other.”

Lydia’s smile grew a lot softer, hip bumping into Stiles. “That’s sweet. First you, now Scotty. Hopefully I’m up next on Eros’ list.”

“God help him,” Lydia may have had men trailing behind her, begging for scraps of her attentions, but she was picky, and rightly so. “That’s gonna be one finely sculpted man to take your heart.”

Lydia shrugged. “I’m worth it.”

A laugh bubbled out of Stiles chest as they rounded the dinning table, winking to her as he took his seat near the head as the king’s consort, his father across from him, with Lydia beside him. Peter, unfortunately, sat beside Stiles after making his introductions, but Stiles was comforted with Cora swept in and took the next seat. If any could keep Peter in check, it was his niece. Derek was the last to arrive, looking hurried when he realized everyone else was seating and looking expectantly at the door he strode though. 

“Sorry,” he said as he pulled out his seat at the head of the table. “The better prepared before the Argents arrive, the better for us.”

“What is it that you were working on?” Cora asked, while reaching for her helping of food as the platters were placed on the table. “Nothing’s changed much in the war lately, we’re both pretty evenly matched. If the Argents are willing now to put everything to an end, they must have some kind of agenda.”

“They did say that they sick of the war effort depleting their supplies and people,” John supplied. “That’s as good a reason as any.”

Peter snorted into his goblet of wine. “Any inconvenience to them, to easily solved. A shortage of food, they’ll just slaughter one of our villages and their the supplies there for themselves without batting an eye.”

“Uncle please—“ Derek’s lips pressed together in a displeased line. “If we’re going to negotiate with them, we can’t just look at them as they’re bad deeds. It’s war, we’ve all done our fair share.”

Stiles jumped at the sound of Peter slamming his goblet down. “We haven’t murdered innocents, _children_ even.”

“Not for lack of suggestion,” Cora bit out, a hand curled on his arm in warning. Clearly retaliation was something that Peter had campaigned for. 

“I know how much the Argents have taken for you in their war,” John said, his voice even and smooth as he spoke. He had the strong look in his eyes that Stiles had always associated when he wore the crown, his king mode. “But for everyone’s sake, it’s better if this fight comes to an end.”

“Exactly,” Derek said. Peter didn’t look satisfied, slumping a bit back into his seat and signaling sharply for a serving boy to refill his goblet, a dark shadow over his face. 

The silence was heavy for a moment, before John turned to Derek after chewing his piece of meat. “I’m glad to see my son is enjoying his time here. Thank you for taking care of him.”

Stiles wanted to roll his eyes. He didn’t need to be taken care of like a child but the words clearly stunned Derek, glancing to Stiles and back to his father. “I wouldn’t dream of anything else,” he said slowly. “He’s my mate, and I just want to make him happy.”

Stiles ignored the little “Aww” he heard from Lydia and reached under the table to put a hand on Derek’s knee. “And he’s done wonderfully. Even if I’m a handful at times.”  
Derek looked at him with a sweet smile softening his rugged features, and Stiles could see that his father was finally satisfied with what he saw. Lunch was rather uneventful from there on, small talk consisted mostly between Derek and John, and Cora and Lydia with Stiles jumping back and forth between the conversations while Peter glowered at them all. 

Just as the food was cleared from the table, Erica and Boyd were announced, cutting an impressive couple as both were fully dressed in elaborate armor and their weapons strapped to their side, Erica’s blonde waves tightly braided down and Boyd wearing the sash identifying him as the captain of the guard. “Your Graces, my lords and ladies,” Boyd’s deep voice rumbled as they both bowed. Stiles then realized in the back of his mind that he’d never actually heard Boyd speak before that moment. “The Argent group approaches.”

Then Derek stood abruptly and they all followed suit, a sudden nervous energy floating over the room. “Thank you Boyd,” he said. “We better all get going to great them.”

Stiles stepped around the corner of the table to take Derek’s arm, and they walked from the room. Kira and Isaac stood outside the door, holding his and Derek’s crowns respectively in their hands and when the pair stopped and lowered their heads, the omega and beta carefully placed the delicate gold in their hair. Stiles’ finger drummed against the crook of Derek’s elbow as they quickly made their way out the great front doors to the castle, standing at the bottom step much like they had earlier that morning. But this time, Derek’s scent reeked of nerves and distress no matter how much he tried to suppress it and Stiles did what omegas were best at doing and tried to project a comforting scent to him. 

Derek looked to him when the oncoming brigade began their entrance through the castle gates, steeling his face even when Stiles gave him one last small smile. 

John stood right at Stiles’ side, Lydia behind him, while Cora and Peter flanked Derek’s side. Guards including Erica, Boyd, Parrish and Scott stood lined behind them, visibly on edge to jump in front on the monarchs and protect them in the treaty was just a ruse. 

But so far the Argent party just lined up once they entered the gate, dressed in deep crimson and black coats. Then one approached forward, dismounting smoothly from their horse and pulling off the helmet, letting chocolate waves of hair tumble out. 

A woman then.

Stiles and Derek shared a confused looked. 

Not the crown prince then. 

She had a crossbow strapped to her back which made Stiles a bit unease as she approached, but she tucked the helmet under her arm and stopped before them drop to a knee. “Your Grace,” she said, head lifting. “I know you were expecting my father, but matters have not allowed him to leave our home and I come in his stead. I’m Princess Allison Argent, daughter of Christopher and Victoria Argent.” She rose then, looking at them steadily. She cut an impressive figure, in the guard’s cloak and trousers, high rising boots, none of which hiding her athletic figure, and while Stiles wasn’t sure her skill with the bow she carried, he wasn’t sure he wanted to find out. “I’m sorry there wasn’t time to send notice, but I assure you that I want the same end goal as my father, to bring this all to an swift end for all of our people.”

Derek nodded, giving a slight bow in response. “Thank you for coming, Princess Allison. This,” he said his arm extended behind Stiles’ back, “is my mate and king consort Stiles. His father King Stilinski was agreed as our mediator during these negotiations, and I hope you still approve.”

Allison’s eyes jumped between them, and she nodded. “If my father found him suitable, I don’t see why I shouldn’t.”

“Good then,” Derek said. “Let us head inside where we can be better situated.” Derek made to lead him inside, but Stiles gave a light push away from his arms, eyes gesturing for him to go on without him. Giving a questioning look, Derek walked with Allison and John in close follow, a chunk of her guards breaking off to follow as well. 

Cora came up to him, dark brows furrowed as they watched them. “Unexpected to say the least,” she muttered. “Peter certainly isn’t any happier about this change of events.”

Stiles glanced over and saw the man staring at the door that they’d disappeared through with a look that dangerously animalistic without his eyes aglow before he stormed off somewhere else on the grounds. “Yeah, I don’t like it. Normal Peter gives me the creeps, I’m not looking forward to seeing him in a mood.”

Cora just sucked her teeth in thought. Stiles had forgotten about Lydia for a moment until she sort of wandered to them, a dreamy look in her eyes and seemingly unsteady on her feet. 

“Whoa, Lydia,” Cora and Stiles both put their hands out when she tilted dangerously to the side. “What’s wrong with you?”

She sort of blink then looked at him, stunned. “I think—“ she said, “I think I’m in love.”

“What?” Cora looked at her like she was crazy, which Stiles could understand to a level. 

“Her scent.” Lydia’s hand grabbed at Stiles’ shoulder. “It just hit me and I’ve never felt anything like that.”

“I’ve heard of that happening,” Cora said slowly, taking Lydia much more seriously. “Most times its gradual but, sometimes a preliminary bond can be formed on first contact.”

“She smelled like sugar,” Lydia seemed like she had gotten intoxicated by the scent and Stiles could completely understand. There were moments where Derek’s open scent made Stiles just want to completely curl up in it, the only sustenance he’d ever need as it lit every nerve on fire. If that had been the reaction the first time he scented Derek walking down the aisle, he was sure his legs probably would have given out beneath him. 

He placed a hand on her hip, giving Cora a knowing smile to which she just rolled her eyes. “Come on, Lady Lydia,” he said with a light humor to his voice. “Let’s go see how’s your princess is doing with my king.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things might look good now but.... All I'm gonna say about the next chapter is that it's certainly gonna start some angst and danger up for everyone! Hope you all enjoyed this tho! Also I'm happy to have Allison finally in the story!
> 
> Thank you for all your kudos! And feel free to leave comments as well!!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh! Please don't hate me for the slow update! I just started my first year at college and getting all settled in was an adjustment, but I've now set up my own schedule for writing so things should be going smoothly from here! 
> 
> And so now please, enjoy this chapter and all its new twists!

Thank the gods thus far everything had been going along relatively smooth, everyone intent on the goal of peace. Not to say is was perfect, nothing close to it. Stiles had sat beside Derek at the center of the table, Allison and the men she’d brought as both guards and fellow advisors directly across to them. Stiles’s father took the place at the head of the proceedings each time as mediator, looking across at them and the other Beacon Hills chosen advisors seated after them. 

Each party had their own interests to keep in mind, Stiles saw still as Allison tried to argue for some repayments for debts their country was thrown into trying to support their war, while Derek venomously demanded many members of the high court be brought to Beacon Hills to pay for their war crimes, her aunt Kate top of his list to face sure execution. Stiles kept a hand softly gripping Derek’s leg beneath the table as he spoke, trying to urge everyone to look past the red rage and grief hanging on them from the deaths and destruction over the many years and instead kept it reasonably within mind’s reach but still take measures to reach the solution. He may have been one of the few humans present and one of the least personally affected, but his words still held their weight. 

They managed to keep a minimum on the outbursts between the two parties. Stiles was certainly proud. 

“…You can’t possibly expect us to give your family a cent of our people’s hard kept money. After what you’ve already done, stripping down our men as their bodies lay on the ground, not even cold yet, selfish bastards!” Aiden, one of Derek’s more heated men, growled out. His fists clenched and Stiles could swear that he was probably only barely containing his sharpened claws. 

Minimum always left room for improvement.

“And your people burned what little crop our people had,” Allison shot back calmly, though her eyes had a raging blaze in them that made it clear it was through self restraint. “It was either take what was needed to try to support our people and buy them necessary supplies, or we’d all have died.”

“We cannot blame them for act we would have likely done with our own hands if forced to,” Deaton spoke up, collected as ever, sitting forward in his seat with his hands folded atop the tabletop and expression serious as ever.

John’s fingers pressed to the bridge of his nose, sighing as he obviously starved off a headache. “Both sides have committed acts that they themselves would find depraved under different circumstance.” Everyone remained silent under his pause, opening his eyes once again and scanning across each face seated before him. “The purpose of these past days, the time and effort of every person here, is to bring an end to this war that had robbed so many of us. To bring the peace we all long for, we cannot sit her and bicker like children. Of course you’ve all lost a tremendous amount, loved ones especially, but we cannot move forward if all you seek is vengeance. As my son has urged you, use it to work towards an end to the losses yet to come. Your men and women all fought well, bravely, and sadly their lives were the cost in the end. But let us prevent further, unneeded death.”

Everyone seemed to look among each other, wary, but heading John’s words. Stiles smiled at his father, who only nodded back. But Peter, who Stiles honestly at points forgot was even present with his constant silence and glowering, finally spoke up, voice gruff.

“And what of children?” His gaze lifted from the smooth wood of the table to glare at the princess with the heat that must have singed her skin. 

“Uncle—“ Cora bade him under her breath, but he ignored her, face twisted in something dark and ugly. 

Allison didn’t back down from his stare. “I regret any innocent lives lost in the casualties of war, it is never the intention. But this was a war.”

“Your own flesh and blood slaughtered innocent blood with no thought, simply because we were seen as the enemy. My family, my sister, my children, my _wife_ with our unborn child still growing inside her, all burned to their death after trapped in a fire set by _your_ family. Were they not innocent? Or simply guilty because of the Hale name they carried?” His voice rose as he went on, becoming more and more enraged. “You are murderers and I don’t find it good practice to make pacts with your kind.”

Allison’s lips thinned. “What my aunt did was done without my family’s knowledge, or blessing. But you speak against the murder of royals for their name alone, children at the very least, yet I fail to believe that you wouldn’t cut me down the second the opportunity presented itself, no matter how young I am or may have been.”

Peter suddenly stood, knocking his chair back with the force of his haste, a growl low in his throat. Allison’s guards all took the step forward, swords scrapping against the leather scabbards as they were half drawn, which only led to the Hale guard’s behind the royal family making to protect them as well. 

Everyone started when Derek slammed a fist to the arm of his chair so hard Stiles was surprised it didn’t crack, eyes squeezed shut to hide what Stiles knew had to be blood red glowing eyes. “Enough!” he shouted. It was then that Stiles saw that his skin had taken a paler complexion. Talking about his family couldn’t have been an enjoyable subject, and Stiles just squeezed his knee. Finally after a few deep breaths heard in the dead tense silence of the room, his eyes opened again, back to their beautiful green. “If we want to play blame games, we can sit here for ages. That is not why we’re gathered here.”

Peter didn’t look away from the princess even as his nephew spoke, the muscles in his jaw so tensed Stiles was concerned that one of his molars might crack. Derek stayed staring right ahead while everyone on both sides just eyed the older wolf warily. 

“Perhaps it’d be best in you left the proceeds to us Peter.” Cora’s tone left very little room to argue, as sharp and steeled as always. 

A heartbeat passed, two heartbeats, before Peter finally moved, moving rigidly as he stormed from the room. When the door slammed, Stiles awkwardly cleared his throat. “Lives were lost. That’s nothing we’re going to argue here. We just need to make sure no more need to be lost. We’re almost there.”

Everyone settled back into their seats, most of them still a bit visibly unsettled. “Emotions run high in matters like this,” John said, voice somber. “But we can’t let it out like that, or you can follow Lord Hale and leave now.” He let a pause in his words to sink on. “If not, now we can discuss these demands.” Stiles noticed the very subtle way his father’s face softened just a bit as he turned it attention to Allison. Always the empathetic father, he thought. “As much as I can understand your country’s plight with the debts that war can wrack up, you might understand why that’s a demand easier asked than given.”

“Our people scraped by in this war,” Derek said. “We worked hard to keep the treasury from going empty, and my citizens were willing to give up their more comfortable aspects of life, but if we start taxing and they find out that they’re putting their coins in a bag to pay to the exact people who killed members of their family and community, I can’t promise they won’t revolt against it.” 

Stiles was awed by the way the alpha managed to be both completely authoritative and imploring to Allison as he spoke, and he watched as she considered the problem, fingernail of her thumb scraping against the engraved pommel of the dagger strapped to her waist as she thought. 

“Establishing a cash reflow was one of the biggest concerns drilled into me before I was sent here. Nothing about peace or land matters if my country is just going to collapse in on itself in a few years. We need to be able to feed ourselves.”

A thought came to Stiles and his head snapped up. “Your country is rich with mines full of metals and precious gems, correct?”

Allison looked to him, brows furrowing slightly as she failed to see what the point in his jump was. “Yes. But we can’t survive off our iron or platinum to feed ourselves.”

“But-” Stiles felt hyperactive, bouncing forward in his seat as his plan unraveled with a growing speed in his mind. “They’re valuable to others. Your people starve while your chests remain empty, but our people know the land and how to make it flourish. We can provide the food your people need so desperately, in exchange for a part of the metals you pull from you land and the work your blacksmiths crafts under their hammer.”

“Build a trade,” Deaton’s voice rumbled, head lightly nodding in agreement. “Thought I would suggest the supplement a portion of the payment for the metals in coin instead of just rations. Build the economy in the process.”

Stiles turned from the doctor to see Derek staring at him with a look of warm adoration with a small smile playing on his lips. As much as the alpha was affectionate behind doors, it was a rare treat for Stiles to get much more than a gentle caress and a brush of hands when they were in the public eye, and never when Derek held court. He didn’t take it so personally. He’d married a private man, with all the reasons to be. But to be looked at, so openly and lovingly when they sat at a table seated with foreign dignitaries, advisors and never the less their own family, Stiles felt the heat rising in his cheeks, looking away. 

“Would you be up for these trades, Princess Allison?” King Stilinski said with a smile, his eyes darting to his son for a second to wink. Stiles just beamed, maybe a bit smug. 

The answer was already in the curve to her lips, dimples forming in the soft flesh of her cheeks. “I see no reason to disagree with such a mutually beneficial agreement, that is — with no disrespect to the king consort — the king actual gives the offer.”

“I would be a fool to halt the proceeds to peace over such an easily solved matter.” That brought the hammer down. 

“It’s agreed then,” John’s voice seemed almost to boom with the proclamation.

The room was quickly filled with murmurs, both sides sounding more than agreeable to the deal. Derek pushed back his chair and stood, everyone following suit. Stiles winced slightly when his back popped as he straightened up. He was not old by any means but sitting in a chair as stiff as that for hours what enough to bring years upon anyone’s spine.

“We’ve spent our days slaving amongst each other to come to the agreements we have. Peace is never easy, and we’ve all had to make do with our own shortcomings to make it to the point we have. To that, I applaud us all.” Maybe it was the way he stood, the light from the shinned windows glinting off the gold of his crown and dancing through the lighter chestnut undertones of his hair, or the command that easily laced through his voice, but Stiles thought that he’d never seen a more kingly man, a man more rightly deserving of the responsibility and trust placed on his shoulders, than Derek Hale in that moment. He was the alpha bound with Stiles to life, through both the mating bite upon his neck and their love for each other. 

How lucky he was.

“We are nearly done with our work,” Derek continued, words sure and smooth. “Final drafts of the treaty to be drawn up even now as we speak. Let it be know, gentlemen and ladies, that soon the bloodshed and horror will become a distant fear in the minds of all our people.”

 

—————————————————————

 

The brook bubbled quietly and distant birds chirped as Stiles leaned to the side on his elbow, sun shinning down into the secluded garden as the kings enjoyed their own small feast in the grass. Stiles felt the need to go down to the kitchens himself and give the cook a good many thanks after the beautifully roasted chicken and honey glazed root vegetables that were still enough to make his mouth water at the thought, even as his belly distended from the food he’d just scarfed down. 

Derek sat beside him, legs stretched out before him and head titled back to enjoy the rays of sun shinning down in the cloudless sky. 

Stiles popped the last tangy blueberry into his mouth, no doubt his tongue already stained a light purple, before he spoke. “Are you glad it’s almost done with?”

Derek kept his head titled back, though his eyes opened into a squint upwards. “Am I glad for peace finally, for this all to be put to rest?” He snorted. “What do you take me for Stiles?”

He shrugged lightly, rising up to his knees to shuffle over to his husband, leaning against one broad shoulder. “You’ve made your reputation as the feared warrior king who strikes down everyone who rises against him. Some men would miss the battlefield.”

“And those men are idiots who revel in violence.” Derek’s brows lowered into a disgruntled look to the sky. “There was nothing enjoyable in taking another man’s life, watching it drain from his eyes and feeling the warmth of his blood on you. Those men fight for their king, my men fight under my orders, and those losses with stay in my mind forever.”

“No.” Derek was clearly surprised at Stiles’ matter a fact tone, head turning to look at him. Stiles pointed to the tops of the castle that were visible over the wall standing a few meters high of stone and vine keeping them hidden from the rest of the garden. The east side of the castle’s grand grey stone was marred with black scorch marks, a constant reminder of the great tragedy that took place so many years ago. “They fight against the great injustice that occurred so many years ago to your family. That’s what fuels them, the injustice to your family and your people simply because of your kind. They’re fighting for what’s right Derek, and if lives are lost they’re for the good of those that they left behind.”

Derek just stared at him for a moment, eyes considering him critically. “It’s a shame that all they bragged of when you were being presented was your beauty. It should have been your mind, as brilliant as you are.”

Stiles scoffed, pushing away at his shoulder. “Don’t get all soft on me now Derek Hale.”

“You figured out the idea to trade before any of us could have batted an eye. I’m sure we would have come to the conclusion eventually, but it would have left some unnecessary tension between us all for some time. Now, we’re on the cusp of ending this war for good with the treaty.”

Suddenly Stiles’ fingernails became extremely interesting. focused on picking at the cuticles, something Lydia would lecture him yet again on, as the praise made his squirm. He’d always been told again and again how wonderful his fair complexion was or how lucky he was for his large amber eyes, but in truth only his father and Scott ever praised him for his mind, his intellect. Omegas were needed to be prim, pretty and quiet. No need for a sharp mind. To be valued by his husband, and the small council now too, for his idea was an uncomfortable feeling, in that he was so unused to the concept of it.

“My mother would have liked you,” Stiles murmured softly. Derek didn’t give an response, which Stiles wasn’t sure whether of not he was glad for, but when he looked up he could see the understanding look in those green eyes, the look of grief and empathy that could only be earned with the same shared loss. “She always said,” Stiles continued on, voice still low. “That my mate should love me, wholly and completely, no matter what my presentation turned out to be. Every part of me should be appreciated, even down to my flailing habits.” That part was always thrown in with some good natured tickling as she teased. “I think you’re what she meant by that.”

Thick fingers wrapped around his own as Derek took his hand, cradling it, and pressed a soft kiss to the palm. Stiles’ eyes fluttered shut, burning slightly with tears half formed in his eyes, and he felt the air shift slightly as Derek leaned forward, lips finding his right cheekbone in another gentle kiss. 

Then he pulled away, and when Stiles opened his eyes against it was to see Derek standing in front of him, using the hand he’d been holding to tug a somewhat reluctant Stiles up to his feet and then leading to the aged willow tree they had been sitting a few feet from. The carving of Derek’s parents’ initials stood stark out, forever a part of the wood of the trunk. Raising the hand not entwined with Stiles’, Derek let his pointer finger grow its long sharpened claw. 

“All my mother wanted for any of us was to find the love that she had with our father, final and forever.” A little below where the previous king and queen’s initials had be etched, Derek used the claw to carve out a D and H. “She would have loved you just as much as any of her own children.”

He then looked expectantly from Stiles to his own hand, for a moment before the omega reached out to use his husband’s finger to trace his own initials to the tree. Once their hands dropped, they stayed staring at it for a moment, hands still laced together. 

That night it felt _different_ , when they laid in their bed together. On their sides, their lips only strayed far enough to take a breath, each touch so soft but so meaningful, the passion behind it so unmistakeable. As Stiles’ hand ran through the soft, short hairs covering Derek’s cheeks as they kissed again while the alpha softly traced down his ribs and over his hip bone, making him twitch. 

It felt almost reverent, slotted perfectly up to each other, legs tangled together and skin sliding slick. Thick fingers gripped the swell of Stiles’ ass, pulling so that his erection began to grind against Derek’s, drawing out a low moan from the both of them. “God Stiles,” Derek hissed out, rolling over Stiles and recapturing his lips. Using the new leverage of his position, he ground down on him harder, Stiles’ legs wrapping around his hips to spur him on.

Stiles could feel how swollen and bruised his lips were with each kiss, gasping down air only to drown again when they pushed towards each other. His cock felt so heavy, slick trickling from his ass, and with every shallow thrust of his hips against Derek’s he could tell that there was no loss in his husband’s arousal. 

Derek finally moved his lips from Stiles’ own, instead deciding to nip at his earlobe to make him stiffen and moan, and mouth at the mating bite to make Stiles whine, fingers gripping at the short hairs at the nape of his neck. 

“Stiles,” he groaned out, one hand roaming free to reach for his ass, a single finger circling the hole only once before easily sliding in. Stiles’ body rolled with the shallow thrusts, but then stiffened when the sensations suddenly disappeared. His eyes blearily opened to see Derek sitting up and back on his haunches, looking down at him with a passioned look in his eyes. “Bite me.”

Stiles blinked again, still too much blood pooled to his groin to think properly. Alphas were very rarely ever marked by their omegas, seen by normal society as _too superior_ to be owned, because, if everyone was honest that was what the mating bite was.

Marking the omega as property.

Stiles hesitantly sat up, legs still splayed on either side of Derek. “Why? Don’t let it be in a moment because you’re overwhelmed.”

The alpha wasn’t deterred at all, pulling Stiles’ hips so that he was sitting in his lap, the pair face to face so close their noses brushed with each shift. “My mother was marked by my father even though she was the alpha and sovereign queen.” His voice was soft and low. “They showed off both their bites with pride because they wanted to make it clear that despite monarch roles, despite secondary genders, they were equal in each other’s eyes.” Derek pressed his forehead against Stiles, eyes intense with their close proximity and flickering candlelight reflecting off them. 

Stiles’ throat felt thick and and nodded before Derek pushed forward again, lips dancing against his own. Sometimes it felt like Derek was just trying to devour him, passionate and completely unrushed. 

Now sitting on his lap Stiles had the dominant hand, arms wrapped around Derek’s neck as he slowly ground his ass down. Derek moaned, unable to hold back the little aborted thrusts. Stiles shivered at the feeling of the head of his cock rubbing against Derek’s abs. “I love you,” he gasped out.

Derek growled, squeezing his hips. “You’re mine. And I am yours.” His words were breaths across Stiles’ lips and the omega gulped them down. 

Both their hands slid over sweat slicked skin, humping and rubbing against each other in a desperate state. Using his grip on Stiles’ back and thigh, Derek managed to lower them down against to the soft pad of the bed, Stiles once against on his back. 

This time however Derek didn’t waste time, reaching between his own legs to line up the angry red head of his cock to the sickened hole, and with a slow push buried himself inside. Stiles raked his nails down Derek’s back, no doubt leaving an array of scratched, the burn of being underprepared a punishment. Derek kissed over his face again and again in a way of apology, keeping his movement slow and small when Stiles whimpered. Soon once again Stiles’ hips began to slowly push back and forth, prompting Derek’s thrusts to become deeper, more satisfying. 

It was always some sort of variation of this it seemed. They ended up with Derek seated well within him, always hitting right on that little sensitive spot after the first few tries, face to face and drinking each other in. 

They grew closer and closer to their edge, Stiles’ breaths coming in shorted and harder, his words sanded down to wispy begs and declarations. The moment right before his climax hit, the request from Derek came full blown to his mind, as if a repressed urge all along was unlocked by those two simple words. 

He tore his lips away from Derek, who was happy enough to bury his head into the crook of his husband’s shoulder. It left his neck bared, a more submissive move and Stiles knew just to bite down hard at the moment he came. 

Derek howled as a burst of metallic tang hit Stiles’ tongue. One last sharp push of his hips, and the alpha’s knot twitched as he began pump cum into his husband. Stiles let go of the meat to his neck, pulling back a few inches to see the prefect indent of his teeth. They were both panting, the last small kiss leaving a smear of red on Derek’s lower lip. One of Derek’s hands reached up and wiped Stiles’ sweaty bangs from his eyes. “I meant what I say,” Derek murmured. “Every word of it.”

“I know, m’darling.” Stiles nosed along his jaw, smiling into his skin. “I did too.”

 

—————————————————————

 

The full moon was a spectacle Stiles was excited to finally be permitted to witness. Of course he’d realized the pattern only a few months into their marriage, Derek slipping away once it grew dark outside, only to clamber back into their bed well into the morning. After being clued into the whole ‘werewolf’ secret, it made a lot more sense but he still never thought to mention it. 

Derek was the one to ask out of the blue one morning as Kira had helped Stiles prepare for the day. “Tomorrow’s the full moon. You know, if you’d like, you could come and be part of the festivities.”

“Festivities?” Stiles looked between Derek and Kira, who was helping him shrug on his overcoat.

“It’s lots of fun!” she grinned. “All of the wolves in the village gather in those big woods at the edge of the castle ground to just run around, release their inner wolf and enjoy themselves. For anyone who’s not a wolf, we just gather on the field and have our own little party. It happens all over the kingdom. You should come!”

“Of course, I’d be honored.” Derek looked so pleased that Stiles just rushed out his next words. “But I do have a little request first!”

Getting permission from Derek had seemed at first the hard part, but finding the right words once he had his father sitting in front of him expectantly was tougher than he’d anticipated. First it took a while for John to stop laughing at the _story_ , and then even longer for him to actually take it seriously. In the end though, it felt like an anvil he hadn’t even realized had been on his chest was finally lifted. Stiles never been one to lie to his father on important matters. It was all he could do to allow his father to drink some wine as it sank in.

Now Stiles was glad to tip his head back, in awe of the beauty of the full, glowing moon heavy in the dark sky. Winter was approaching, so the wind had a bite to it, even as he pulled his coat tighter. Derek didn’t seem to be bothered at all, barefoot and dressed only in plain trousers and a loose shirt. It was, as Derek had made a recent habit of, open at the collar to show off his still reddened mating bite with pride. It made Stiles blush profusely every time he saw some courtier or citizen looking at it curiously or whispering behind their hands, but he still held his head high. It was proof of their bond and love for each other. Let them gawk. They all wished they could be more like Derek anyway, at least in Stiles' mind.

As they slowly walked across the field, the citizens around them took the courtesy to give them shallow bows as they passed and Stiles was pleased to see so many faces he recognized. He could see the twins already geared up in the moon’s light, wrestling, Erica already looking wild with her hair unbound and a sharp smile with Boyd at her side, a vision of pure strength as the moonlight highlighted each of his shirtless muscles, and even Cora laughing as Issac leaned down to kiss her. They and everyone else present seemed happier, more unencumbered, as they gathered in nature.

“Stiles!” He turned to see Scott waving him over, and after Derek gave his hand a squeeze, he walked over. “I was so pumped with Derek said you were coming!”

Stiles laughed. “I can imagine.” Kira had been standing by Scott’s side and he gave her a hug in greeting. “I’m excited to see what happens tonight.”

“They get to roll around in the roll and chase their own tails so we get to relax and talk,” Kira teased. 

Scott scoffed and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her to his side. “I guess you’ll be the first person I hug when I get back from the run. Stiles, you’re next.”

Stiles just rolled his eyes and shivered. “So when does this run start anyway?”

“Right now,” Scott said, pointing to Derek. He was standing in the middle of the crowd, stripping off his shirt. Stiles could see even from a distance the way his chest swelled as he took a deep breath, and head tilted back he gave a long howl. It was the most animalism sound Stiles has heard him make without being shifted. 

The crowd gathered began to break up, a majority of them wandering into the thin edges of the forest, the rest of them presumably human saying their hellos among each other. Scott kissed Kira’s forehead and gave Stiles a playful punch to the shoulder before jogging after the rest of them.

Stiles jumped when hands gripped his shoulders and whipped around to see Lydia’s face inches from his. She looked comfortably wrapped up and warm, though Stiles noted dark circles almost like bruises beneath her eyes. “Lydia! What are you even doing here?” 

She shrugged. “You know things don’t slip by me easily.” Then her lips stretched into a smile. “Also Scott isn’t good about keeping his mouth shut and your father needed someone to vent to when I told him I already knew.”

Stiles didn’t know whether to laugh or march into the forest to smack Scott hard on the top of his head. “Can’t say I’m too surprised any more. Is my father coming?”

“I got the impression that the shock of finding out that his son-in-law can turn into a wolf is enough for him. Last I saw he was still nursing that bottle of wine.” 

Stiles winced. It would be forgiven for now that his father spent the entire afternoon with a full goblet, but hopefully the massive headache would teach him better than to get into the habit. 

A high howl pierced through the air again, but this time joined by a rising chorus. Lydia’s eyes caught something over Stiles’ shoulder and she gasped. He turned to see a massive black beast walking towards them on heavy paws, eyes glowing red. 

Stiles pushed down the instinctual fear at seeing such a powerful predator and took the steps to meet it halfway. It was huge, meeting Stiles eye to eye when he knelt down, hand reaching up to softly stroke a silken ear. “Derek?” he whispered. 

The wolf yipped, pushing against his hand. He smiled, petting all over his husband’s new furry neck, admiring his fully shifted form in the way that he couldn’t when Kate had attacked. “You look beautiful.” 

The wolf straightened up completely, head raised in a way that couldn’t be mistaken for any other than pride.

Another wolf trotted out beside them, instead a tawny brown and slightly smaller than Derek, eyes blazing blue. It was obvious it was Scott when the wolf nudged him playfully with his nose, tail wagging back and forth furiously, before running to circle around Kira, jumping and barking.

More barks and howls were echoing through the woods and Stiles could vaguely see wolves wresting and running through the brush, waiting for their alpha. “Go have fun with your people,” Stiles urged, gently pushing his husband’s wolf towards them. 

Derek hesitated for a moment, looking to his people and back before giving Stiles a wet lick across his palm before running off, another howl calling everyone to follow him as they raced away. 

The humans spent the hour lounging in chairs set out for their comfort, Stiles nestled under a blanket Kira had been so gracious to dump on him after watching him miserably shake every time the wind blew. The two of them sat with Lydia, teasing her about the growing infatuation between her and the princess.

It was no secret throughout the castle of their relationship blossoming over the days since her arrival. It wasn’t hard to catch the soft looks they threw each other, or the way that each wolf’s nose would wrinkle each time they strode into a room, arm in arm, from the love lust pheromones they were pouring off. 

“Allison is sweet on you, for sure,” Kira said, cheeks tinted pink in the slight cold. “But have you talked at all about once negotiations are over? They’re no longer the enemy after the treaty takes, and you’re a highborn lady. ”

Lydia just shook her head. “We haven’t been particularly focused on—“ Her words were interrupted when her mouth stretched in a deep yawn. Her eyes kept fluttering down like they were just aching to close and drift off to sleep, head resting heavily in her hand. While it was late out, the day had been spent lazily lounging around for the very reason of not being too thoroughly exhausted come night, and Stiles had thought he’d heard Lydia earlier putting her hand down during a _thrilling_ game of cards with Allison and Jackson to announce she was feeling a bit tired and would want a nap.

Stiles squinted at her. With the deep circles under her eyes, and the rather pallid quality to her skin that couldn’t just be attributed to the night sky, he was a bit concerned. “Are you feeling alright Lydia?”

She rubbed at her temples, nodding all the same. “I’ve just been having some trouble sleeping. Some awful nightmares.”

Kira’s brow furrowed in concern. “You could go to Deaton if it still bothers you after a day or two. I know he’s got some mixtures and medicines that could help you sleep.”

“Uh huh,” Lydia’s eyes slide from Kira to the dark woods even as the kitsune still spoke. Both the omegas startled when the redhead stood up, looking at the forest confused, shifting to an expression of vague horror.

Stiles looked to Kira, who seemed just as confused, and the pair stood, watching her carefully. “Lydia?” Stiles called her name gently, laying a hand on her shoulder. 

She didn’t even seemed to notice or hear him, still completely focused on the woods though her eyes were slightly glazed over as if in a trance. She began taking steps forward, the shawl she’d wrapped around herself falling to the ground as her arms went limp. Her breathing picked up, as if anxious, but before Stiles could call her name again her mouth opened and a scream burst forth.

He’d never heard anything like it, a wail amplified loud enough that it felt like it should be heard miles away, and even as they stood behind her, both Stiles and Kira hunched over with their hands clasped tight on their ears as she screamed. 

It sounded desperate and chilling in that one awful noise.

Finally Lydia’s scream subsided to dead silence, and when Stiles looked up he saw her stumble forward a step, looking around confusedly. He and Kira both immediately went to her side, ignoring all the other non wolves staring at her in alarm and fear. “What the hell was that?” Stiles burst, gripping on her elbow to both steady her and himself. 

Lydia’s mouth opened, but she just shook her head. “I don’t—“

Stiles was ready to ask her a million more things when a howl pierced the air. It was definitely different than earlier’s call to play. Stiles’ certainly didn’t speak wolf, but it was sharp and quick. 

It was a warning.

Growling and cries of pain could be faintly heard. Stiles left Lydia to Kira, taking steps towards the forest. Nothing to be seen but the terrifying sound until a few moments later when wolves began rushing out. It chilled Stiles’ blood faster than anything in the world to see the sight of blood decorating some fur coats, a few wolves limping out with arrows piercing their hides or bleeding wounds. 

“Derek!” He screamed. 

A wolf started pushing him with its head, incessant and desperate. Stiles tried to push it away, to surge forward for his mate, but a second wolf joined, whining and shoving. He fought still for a second before the wolf gave a sharp nip to his hand. With a hiss, Stiles yanked back his hand and looked at the offending wolf in a fury. Scott. His best friend had blood sprayed on his coat, not from any wound of his own that Stiles could see, and his eyes were communicating in the way that his mouth could not. It was fear, desperate and stinking from every single person running past them, every scent almost acidic with it.

If something was bad enough to send all the wolves running, it had to be dangerous. With a thick swallow, Stiles nodded and turned back towards the castle. Scott stayed by his side the whole time, along with the pale brown wolf who’d originally tried to push him back. Kira and Lydia still stood where they’d been left, looking around at the rush of people and wolves to the castle with scared confusion. He grabbed both their hands. “We’ve got to go.” There was no hesitation for either of them. 

They ran until they were safely within the castle walls, the grand entrance hall filled with the villagers. Some, still in wolf form, were collapsed on the stone floor, panting heavily while the injured in either physical form were laid out on one side, Deaton and other healers rushing between them to treat them the best they could on the extreme short notice. Lydia pulled away to help how she could and Scott and Kira became focused on each other, worried and grateful. Some people were wandering about, calling out wretchedly names of loved ones. Stiles’ stomach dropped with the realization that most of those calls would get no response back.

While Stiles was taking in the chaotic sight, he saw Princess Allison, sword drawn and flanked by some guards, rush down the main staircase dressed still in a nightgown obviously drawn from the noise of it all. She gaped at the sight of wolves and men alike, at a loss for what to do.

“Stiles!” He turned around just in time to swept up into strong, tight arms. Stiles could have cried as he struggled to hold onto Derek just as tight, knees suddenly painfully weak. They only held onto each other for a moment, even as everyone rushed around them. When they did finally separate, Stiles’ fingers dug into Derek’s arms so hard there was no doubt it was painful but he didn’t care.

“I thought something happened to you! I couldn’t find you when everyone was running out.”

Stiles saw the relief crushing his chest reflecting into Derek’s eyes. “There were some wolves that needed help to get out. I couldn’t just leave my people there.”

A servant passed by, handing out garments to the shifted wolves so that that could at least somewhat cover their nudity, which Derek gratefully accepted a simple pair of breeches. Stiles’ couldn’t concentrate on anything but the fear that had gripped him hard at the first warning howl. “I thought it was just supposed to be a run through the woods! What the hell happened?”

“I can answer that,” Peter’s growl cut over everything. He marched through the crowd, flanked with royal guards. Blood decorated his upper torso and face. His eyes narrowed, voice guttural, as he pointed at Allison still standing at the stairs. “Argent soldiers were waiting deep in the woods for us. Once we were deep enough inside their trap they started firing arrows at us or slashing us down. We were unprepared and they cut down innocent lives on her aunt and grandfather’s orders. And yet we stand here treating this one like a guest.”

“What?” Allison looked like she couldn’t believe any words to come from his mouth, but her grip on her blade tightened when low growls broke out at the accusation. “My family would never do anything like this when we’re so close to peace.”

“They couldn’t help but brag it out as they slaughtered us yet again,” Erica spat out, nursing a nasty slash all the way across her upper arm. “They proudly wore the same colors as your men there.”

“Arrest them on charges of murder and conspiracy to commit such acts against the monarchy,” Peter ordered, a gleeful look in his eyes even as he did so.

Still, all eyes turned to Derek as the guards hesitated. In the end, it was the word of the king they looked to. Derek didn’t speak for a moment, only looking at the distressed princess who hefted her sword like she was ready to cut anyone down before she was ready to be dragged away. The whole room waited on baited breath. 

“Take them away,” he finally said.

“We haven’t done anything! We’ve been trying to stop this fight!” Allison shouted, but as the guards marched up the steps for her, instead of lifting her sword, she let it slip from her hands to the smoothed stone steps with a clatter. Her own guards slowly followed suit.

“You don’t know that she had anything to do with it,” Stiles hastily said in a hushed tone. 

Derek looked at him, suddenly looking very tired, and his hands came up to cradle Stiles' face. “It doesn’t matter much now,” he said, monotone. “We’re in war.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooh, some big things are gonna be coming up in this next chapter! Can you guess what?
> 
> Thank you for all your kudos! And feel free to leave comments as well!!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a little thing to get the ball rolling!

A month past and still nothing had been resolved. If anything matters had just grown worse. 

All soldiers that had been slowly making their way back home from their stations were being sent back to their posts, everyone aggressively reeling back from the attacks during the full moon. To everyone’s horror, the ambushes weren’t contained to simply the capital, but spread throughout the kingdom.

The death tallies lingered in the hundreds now. 

Stiles would never forget the images of his people wounded and panic, he and Derek wearing black for the next week in solidarity with those in mourning. The attack was an unforgivable move, targeting the innocents instead of soldiers. 

The princess remained held in a cell with her entourage in a cell, “ _for her own safety"_ Peter would parrot whenever he mentioned it. More like a pawn until she could be used to sway her family Stiles supposed. 

Another attack so close to home also hadn’t made Derek any more bearable. Now the alpha insisted that at least two guards be on Stiles Watch at all times, either standing stoically outside the door of whatever room he was in or trailing a few paces behind him whenever he went. Derek himself was overbearing, all be refusing any time Stiles wanted to step a foot outside the castle grounds into the villages or settling into a quiet self-contained fury whenever Stiles managed to slip away from his guards that just made the human feel soundly guilty without Derek even needing to say a single word. 

The final depressing factor was Stiles’ father regretfully leaving a week after the attack. Of course Stiles’ understood, their kingdom was always in a state of risk as their kingdom bordered both of the warring countries, even more now as the Argents ramped up their offensive and John was no longer a neutral party after Stiles’ marriage. Their people had a target on their back just as much as the werewolves of Beacon Hills as default sympathizers without even knowing of their existence. 

With a heavy goodbye, John had kissed Stiles’ forehead goodbye before mounting onto his horse and riding away with his party, sans Lydia who had insisted on staying behind. Stiles knew that there was no way to tell the next time he’d be able to see his father again had ended up spending a good majority of that afternoon shut away in his bedroom, consoled by Scott and Kira until Derek had been able to breakaway from the council to comfort him instead. 

The stress of war looming over them after having peace swiped out from under their feet affected everyone in the castle, seeming more haggard and weary. For the first time Stiles noticed bags beneath his husband’s eyes, knowing full well the lack of sleep between them as they laid in their bed at night, side by side, just staring up at the ceiling. Sometimes, not wanting Derek to worry about him anymore, Stiles feigned sleep, even though he know the werewolf probably was under no illusions he was anywhere near morpheus’ spell. 

As he slunk down the hall from the library, Stiles couldn’t even stifle a yawn, jaw widening until it popped with a wince. Today’s guards were two nondescript wolves Stiles had never meet before, silent even when he tried to start up a little conversation. He realized they took their job with a severity that probably meant Derek had given them his own little pep talk probably featured the promise torn limbs if he got so much got a scratch after a joke had trailed off with his own awkward chuckle as they stared straight ahead, backs ramrod straight.

A coppery flash caught his eye, and he looked to see Lydia turning a corner, pulling the hood of a cloak over her distinctive curls. Stiles picked up his pace and turned the corner just as she made her way down the stairs. She wore the plainest midnight blue cloak he’d ever seen her wear tightly around herself, head bowed and hurriedly moving. Clearly she was trying to slip around without drawing attentions. “Lydia,” he called out, stopping when she froze, only a few steps down. 

Though she’d stayed behind in Beacon Hills instead of traveling back home, Stiles had barely seen traces of her since that night. Whenever he asked if anyone knew about her whereabouts the answer was almost always that she was in her room, wishing to not be disturbed. 

Of course, as king, Stiles had the right and could have entered the rooms she occupied, but as a decent being and friend, Stiles gave her the space she was obviously seeking. Now though, in the open space of the passage way, he thought it was fair game.

Shame covered her face as she turned, not meeting his gaze but instead seemed singularly interested in his boots. He took a step towards her, only to hear the guards mirror the step behind him with the clang of their armor. Beyond the point of annoyed, he turned on his heel and scowled at them. “I hardly think Lady Martin is much of a threat on my health. If she’d wanted to kill me, which I’m surprised at time she didn’t, she had nearly eight years of very much open opportunities. So you can both step back.”

The men looked at each other, unsure whether to listen to his compliant, but it must have shown he was gearing up for a long due outburst and they wisely stepped back.

Stiles sighed and turned back to Lydia who was watching the spectacle with a smirk that dropped the second they made eye contact. “Lydia,” he said again, walking up to her. 

“Stiles,” she said back. Finally she lifted her chin and looked him dead in the eyes. “You caught me just as I was just going out for a walk outside. Would you like to join me?”

He just rolled his eyes. “You know I can’t take a walk without Derek sending half of the castle guards after me. He’s going to keep me cooped up until I go insane. But—“ he narrowed his eyes. “I haven’t seen you at all lately. You alright?” 

The flat line Lydia’s lips had pressed into softened into a small smile. “I’m fine, don’t worry about me.”

True, in the light, she looked much better than she had the night of the attack, her cheeks back to a peachy pink and eyes sparkling. “I know things must be hard. Did you figure out what happened to you that night? That scream…” he trailed off, not needing to elaborate. 

Her eyes dropped, and she shuffled with something beneath her cloak. “I-I don’t really know what that was, Stiles. It was just a one time thing, I just had a bad feeling in my head and it came out.”

“But that wasn’t any normal kind of scream-“ he pushed but she snapped back at him. 

“Just leave it alone Stiles! It’s my thing to deal with and I’m dealing with it.” She shook her head. “I’ve got to go.”

She turned, taking another step down the stairs, but he wasn’t yet done, perhaps just a little bit hurt at being snapped at for caring. “We both know you’re not just going on a walk Lydia.” She stopped again, turning her head to look at him over her shoulder. “I thought I was one of your best friends Lyds. What are you trying to hide from me?”

There was a heavy pause for a moment, neither of them wiling to move. Then Lydia set her shoulders and marched up the few stairs to be level with Stiles and let her cloak fall open. In her hands she held a thick folded blanket that she handed to him. With a cocked brow, he unfolded it in his hands at feeling weighted objects within. A candlestick, sealed letter, a quill and tiny ink well. There was a very obvious symbol of the Argents pressed into the wax sealing the letter.

There weren’t very many places she could be going with those items.

“You know this is treason is anyone finds out,” he said quietly, folding the blanket over again. “Anyone would willingly turn you in for this. Her family killed so many people.”

“But she didn’t have anything to do with it!” Lydia fought for her, pleading desperately with her eyes. “She was here for peace.”

Stiles just looked as his friend with a knowing gaze, sympathetic. “You really love her.”

“She’s a good person Stiles,” was all Lydia said. “She would never want to hurt innocent people like that.”

Stiles just bit his lip, handing the blanket back to her which she hastily put beneath her cloak again. There was silence, heavy with the question that he knew Lydia was stressing to ask. 

Stiles turned to the guards, hand out expectantly toward the closest one. “Give me your cloak.”

The guard just blinked at him while his comrade’s brows furrowed in confusion. Still Stiles didn’t back down, shaking his hand until the man slowly untied the black and gold trimmed fabric from around his shoulders.

Wrapping it around himself, he gave Lydia an expectant look when she looked shocked. “It’s about time I go pay Allison a little visit. I should have done it a while ago.”

The smile that broke out on her face was the smile of the fiery woman that he knew. 

As they made their way down the back passages he realized that using the guard’s cloak instead of one of his own had it advantages. The fabric was plain and common, unlike a king’s cloak would be, and the beta musk that had soaked into the fabric over time worked as a sort of partial mask to his own, overlaying it enough that a general sniff to the air wouldn’t be enough to scent him out unless you were specifically looking for him.

Once outside the entry to the dungeons, Stiles once again turned to the guards still trailing them with a frown on both their faces. “You can stay here.” The twin frowns deepened but before they could open their mouths to argue Stiles cut them off again. “All the prisoners are locked in cells and cannot touch us. And besides that, I am you king and this is my order. You will guard the door instead.”

There was no door to the dungeon itself, just a dark, dank steep stairwell watched by a dirty guard that watched them with a curious eye. Feeling slightly dizzy, Stiles just tugged the hood further over his head as Lydia picked up her skirt with one hand and lead the way, Stiles leaning a hand against the wall the entire way down lest he end up slipping. Once down in the dungeons, they passed cell after cell, most empty, but those filled had leering, hulking prisoners whose eyes glowed at them as they passed with interest. Stiles shuddered at the feeling of these gazes on them, ignoring the few whistles and begs to come closer just for a moment. 

The cell they stopped at was far to the end of the room, large but still a bit cramped with figures huddled together. Winter was fast approaching, and the damp air on the dungeon was only making the chill worse. The other wolves in their cells were fine with their increased body heat, but the Argent soldiers and their princess must have felt half frozen. 

Now the thick blanket Lydia brought made so much more sense, along with the few that he could see them already sharing among themselves. Clearly she was a frequent visitor. 

“Allison,” she softly called, going right up to the bars and squinting in the dim light. The men and women inside shifted as the princess weaved her way through them to reach the outside. As soon she herself got to the bars, she reached through to give Lydia such a kiss that made Stiles, no longer anywhere near a virgin and a stranger to passion, blush and avert his eyes. But he could understand the desperation.

Allison was trapped in a kingdom that hated everything she had to stand for as her family’s envoy, bloodthirsty for revenge after so many of their own had been murdered, and at any moment she could be dragged out of the cell to be used as an example and executed. 

Lydia stroked her alpha’s face through the bars before pushing the items to her. “I’m sorry I can’t bring more,” she said. “If I bring too much with me, I’ll bring too much attention to myself.”

“No, don’t worry about it,” Allison hushed her. “You’ve done so much more than the nothing we’d otherwise have.” She quickly opened the blanket, taking out the items before passing the warm quilt back to her guards. She then handed the candlestick to a woman next to her who pulled out a knife and struck it against the stone of the walls until sparks flew, lighting the wick. Allison analyzed the seal to the letter for only a second in the new light before ripping it open, eyes scanning over and over the written cursive. 

“My god,” she said quietly, hands dropping to her sides once she was done. 

“What?” Lydia was basically trembling with the question “What did you father say?”

So the letter was from Chris Argent then. Stiles stood just to the side, listening. 

“I knew my grandfather never truly approved of the treaty, but my father convinced him that he didn’t want to be the king known for starving his people down for merely an overgrown grudge. But, my father says that he’s been on his deathbed for weeks now and he’s finally given in to my aunt again. She’s leading the war movement herself.”

“What about you? She knows that you’ve been here for weeks.”

Allison just scoffed. “My grandfather and aunt haven’t wasted effort in trying to make their feelings about me and my father’s opinion on the war. She loves me, but once I’ve turned to the side of peace, I’m no better than an enemy. And until my grandfather actually passes, my father won’t have any power to stop her.”

“You’re aunt defected from the plan for peace,” Stiles finally spoke up and Allison’s eyes snapped to him, as if realizing for the first time that he was even there. “You shouldn’t be kept down here then. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

“Finally believe me then?” There wasn’t any sarcasm in her words, only a cautious tone. 

“I never really thought you had anything to do with it,” Stiles admitted. “But I couldn’t just speak out on a small feeling. There are my people to protect too.”

“He’ll do his best to help you,” Lydia promised on his part, before gesturing to the paper in her hand and the quill and ink waiting on the side. “You should write your father back though. He must be worried and it’ll take another few days ride for a messenger to get it back to him.”

Allison nodded and reached through the bars again to give Lydia another soft kiss before pulling back to write on the back of the letter her father had sent. Stiles clearly didn’t need to be a wolf to scent the sweeter notes filling both the alpha and omega’s scents. It was sad to see the courting couple separated in such a way. Instead, he just watched as Allison hastily wrote a reply to her father in the flickering light of the single candle, pulling the cloak tighter around himself as a draft blowing past made him shiver.

 

—————————————————————

 

Derek knew. 

The moment Stiles slipped into their bedchambers later that evening, Stiles knew that his husband had heard about his little adventure that evening. His nose stung with the sour edge Derek’s scent had taken on, suddenly feeling very nauseous. 

The alpha just stood in the middle of the room, arms crossed and face hard. “You went to visit the Argents today.” His statement was flat. 

Stiles sucked in his cheeks, leaning back against the door. “I visited _Allison_ today, yes. Is there a problem with that?”

Derek looked incredulous, as if he couldn’t understand the audacity of the question coming from Stiles mouth. “Do I have a problem?” He repeated, stalking up to Stiles and using his height to his advantage. “Have you lost your goddamn mind Stiles? You can’t go see a woman who was involved in the deaths of so many of our people!”

“But you don’t know that do you you?” Stiles bit back, not taking very kindly to the way Derek was looming over him. “She was here working on peace when the attacks happened. She would have been an idiot to be here when we would have been looking for revenge.”

“Argents tend not to look past the bloodshed of our people,” Derek growled. 

Stiles scoffed and pushed past him, going to the mirror to unbutton his vest and undress for the bath he’d had Kira call the servants to ready. “Maybe you should stop generalizing anyone with their bloodline the same way you wish they’d stop with generalizing wolves.”

Derek grabbed his arm and turned him around to face him, furious. “Don’t compare us to them.”

“How can I not!” Stiles cried, yanking his arm back. “You have an innocent woman that was on our side freezing to death in our cells because her aunt went off the deep end.”

“I care for my people Stiles,” Derek growled. “I thought you would have too. This is a war that will not end until the other side crumples. We’ve tried it the peaceful way and nothing’s come out of it but a false sense of peace.”

Stiles stared at Derek for a moment with an open mouth. “You think that because I’m human I don’t care for our people or understand?” Derek flinched back for a moment at Stiles’ quiet anger. “They are our people Derek, ours! How dare you even think that I wouldn’t be on our own side or that I would sympathize with the people that murdered our people. But you haven’t even attempted to see if Allison had anything to do with it, which I might mention neither she or her father did! I’m human, but I’m not an idiot, as you so loving kept on telling me, unless they were just filthy, fluffy fucking lies!” He beat his fists against Derek’s chest with each of his last words, eyes burning with tears. 

Again moving around him, Stiles was ready to scream. He pulled his vest off his shoulders, probably popping the last button or two, but he didn’t care as he bundled it up in his hands in agitation. “And you’ve been treating me like a porcelain doll, and I can’t handle it! How am I supposed to feel when you keep acting like I’m a child that needs to be constantly watched and then scolded if I need a little time to myself to not just snap! I’ll tell you how it feels! Fucking awful!” He shouted, throwing the balled up fabric at Derek to punctuate his anger, though it only softly hit the alpha’s chest then crumpled in a heap on the floor. 

Derek didn’t move, face etched in stone of annoyance and exasperation. “You’re the king consort. Your health is important to the country, if not just yourself.”

“Well!” Stiles flung out his arms in flustered anger. “Maybe sometimes I just don’t want to be if this is what it’s like.”

Derek’s eyebrows lowered, dark and heavy over his eyes, and suddenly his scent flared out, hurt, and Stiles snapped out of his anger, just feeling tired. “Maybe I’ll find another bed to sleep in tonight,” he said and Stiles sighed, slowly nodding after a moment. 

Derek left without another word, and Stiles slowly stripped the rest of the way down, and sunk into the cooled bath waiting for him. He sat there, hugging his own knees, before the burn in his eyes became overwhelming and tears flowed down his cheeks as he cried. He stayed there until the water turned cold enough that he was shivering, pulling himself out and drying off before crawling into bed in just his robe, huddling to Derek’s side of the bed. He stayed there, hiccuping slightly, before his stomach’s turmoil climaxed to him clambering out of bed quickly to vomit into the chamberpot until he was reduced to just dry heaves. Feeling clammy, he slipped beneath the covers again, burying his nose into Derek’s pillow and breathing deeply until he passed out.

 

—————————————————————

 

He woke up to a hand softly stroking the bangs of his slightly overgrown hair, the feeling soothing as he surfaced into the world of consciousness. His first thought was ‘ _Derek_ ’ , that his husband had faired just as badly after their fight, but then a small sniff made him wilt again. Omegas, not an alpha. 

He pried one eye open to see Lydia sitting on the edge of his bed, Kira standing just behind her and looking concerned. “Good afternoon,” the redhead said softly. “We didn’t want to wake you earlier. You seemed like you needed the sleep.”

Stiles only moaned, burrowing deeper into the covers that he had pulled up and tucked under his chin. He had had every right to be angry at Derek, _that_ he wasn’t going to change for anything, but looking back there were so many others ways he could have gone about expressing it. Maybe if his husband wasn’t such a grouch when he got upset would have helped a lot too. 

“I’m guessing you and Derek had a bit of a lovers quarrel,” Kira said, placing a tray of food that smelled heavenly at the food of the bed. “You smell like you've been crying. And maybe a little sick.” Her eyes darted for a moment to the pot he’d puked his guts into and Stiles’ nose wrinkled, already feeling his stomach churn again. A reminder was honestly the last thing that he needed. 

“I hope it wasn’t over the whole Allison situation.” Lydia looked guilty again, though the curiosity was barely visible at the same time. 

Stiles slowly sat up, wincing at the pounding headache already forming at his temples. “It was a long time coming, trust me,” He said, gratefully inhaling the steam floating from the cup of tea on the tray. “Yesterday was just the cherry on the top. This past month or two has been hard on all of us.”

“Well, I don’t know what you said to him, but it worked.” 

Stiles cocked a brow at her over the rim of the cup as he drank. Licking his lips, he spoke again. “I don’t know what you mean by ‘worked’ other than the fact that I’m pretty sure I’m going to have a much large space on the bed for a while.”

“Allison and her guard were released from the dungeon,” Lydia said, grasping his free hand. “I mean, they’re all still under watch and all, but they were moved to rooms upstairs and are much more comfortable. Think now more of grounded guests than prisoners.”

Stiles’ eyebrows shot up in disbelief, and Kira nodded. “Derek ordered it last night, saying that if we were willing to give them the element of doubt before, we should do it once again now since they’ve all been sticking to their story of innocence.”

“Peter looked ready to rip his hair from his head when they were being moved this morning,” Lydia laughed. The maliciousness to it was totally understandable, considering it was Peter.

Stiles felt a bloom of warmth that flushed through his chest as he took another sip of the tea, feeling the cinnamon hint dissolved in it help his stomach settle. But he nearly choked on the tea  when Kira spoke up again, sounding rather hesitant to even utter her words. 

“I know you two just had a fight, a rather large one it seems, but I thought you might still want to be there to send him off. I just know that you had a hard time last time when you didn’t really get the chance to.”

Stiles reached out and grabbed her arm, in what probably was a slightly painful grip, but he didn’t care at the moment. “What do you mean he’s leaving?”

They probably realized he was on the edge to hysterics from the wide eyed glances they threw each other, both rushing to calm him down. “It was decided this morning,” Lydia said hurriedly. “There just wasn’t time to talk about it.”

Kira joined her with vigor. ”Argent soldiers are marching in on the villages in a lot more vigor on Kate’s orders. They need to be sent out quickly and they really don’t have much time.” 

But none of that mattered to Stiles, throwing the covers aside and sliding out of bed. Lydia and Kira stood with him, following close behind as he threw the doors open and stormed out. Stiles knew exactly where the captain would be getting his men ready. Servants, citizens and guards alike stared at the king consort as he made his way through the castle, most gawking at the strange sight. 

The same scene at Stiles could remember watching from months and months ago from the balcony on their room, soldiers and stoke filled the courtyard with their king in the middle of the space, soothing and preparing his horse to ride. Stiles just marched up to Derek, glaring at him silently as the alpha whipped around to see his seething mate. 

“What are you doing out here Stiles?” He hissed, shocked and boxing Stiles in a space between himself and the horse, trying to hide the omega from view. “You shouldn’t be out here in just your robe!”

“I wouldn’t be if you were about to leave without telling me, for the second time! _Really_ _Derek?_ ” The sentence started out angry, but ended in a hurt whine. “You can’t keep doing this to me Derek. As we already fought about, do you just think it would be better for me to wake up and find you gone? I know you’re not a fool, so what it is you— you **Sourwolf**!”

Derek bowed his head, shame flooding his face. “I’m sorry Stiles, just, after last night—“ he stopped with a deep swallow, chest rising and falling with an increasing pace. “I thought that you wouldn’t want to see me. That you’d be glad I was gone. You said that you weren’t sure at times that you wanted to be married to me.”

Stiles closed his eyes for a moment before hesitantly laying his hands on Derek’s chest, feeling his heart beating erratically. “Whatever words came out of my mouth in anger, you have to know that that certainly would never be anything I’d say, no matter how angry you can make me sometimes. That’s life, we’re gonna have our ups and downs, and yes sometimes I hate the pressure and responsibility of the lives we live as royalty.” One hand lifted to Derek’s neck, fingertips resting lightly on the fully healed bite mark and looking deep into those green eyes with all the sincerity he could possibly pour into his own. “But I would never ever regret us, Derek. We are mates, equal in everything. That what these bites mean.”

Both of them were misty eyed and Derek placed a kiss to his forehead before Stiles lifted his chin and the next kiss was on his mouth, softly pressed and savory. There was a wolf-whistle or two and after a minute when the breath was gone from Stiles’ lungs they pulled apart, Derek looking over his shoulder to growl at his men with no real heat behind it. 

The two embraced tightly, Stiles tucked into Derek’s arms and the alpha’s face buried in his hair, breathing in the scent of him as if to memorize it. “You have to come back,” Stiles whispered, knowing full well he could hear. “You need to. Swear it.”

“You know I can’t do that.”

Stiles sniffled and rubbed his face against Derek’s chest. “Do it anyway.”

Derek sighed. “I swear I’ll do my best until my dying breath.”

They just stood tightly clasped until a hand softly shook Derek’s shoulder. They both lifted their head to see Boyd, looking very regretful, standing beside them. “It’s time to head out Your Grace, if we want to make it far into the country before nightfall.” With a duck of his head, he backed away, mounting onto his own steed.

Derek pulled back slightly, still holding Stiles in his arms. “I’ll be back as soon as possible, I promise. I love you.”

Stiles gave him a watery smile, hand reaching up to his cheek to feel that soft stubble again. “I love you too Sourwolf.”

Derek’s dark brows lowered with a fond scowl. “Are we really going to stick with that?”

“Oh yeah,” Stiles teased. “That’s what you get.”

With one last kiss, Stiles reluctantly pulled away, joining Lydia, Kira, and surprisingly Cora who he hadn’t noticed had apparently said goodbye to her brother before he’d arrived, to the side, arms wrapped around himself. The biting chill was quickly stealing all the warmth that Derek’s body had given him, even as the women flanked his sides and tried to rubbing heat into his arms.

Heart heavy, he watched Derek swing into his horse, looking terrifyingly impressive, up on the pure black stallion with his own animalistic power. With one last nod to Stiles and his sister, Derek kicked his heels into the horse’s side and then he was off, leading his men away. 

“Let’s get some food in you, huh?” Kira tried to pull him away with her words, once most of the men were nothing more than small blobs, and he nodded. 

“I’m glad you made up with him,” Cora said, still looking after the soldiers in the distance, long dark hair whipping around her. “That’s probably the anvil off his chest that would have slowed him down in battle.”

“I’m glad too,” was all Stiles said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did any of you pick up on some hints about something going to happen in the next chapter! Also, some of your guesses in the last chapter were pretty spot on, good job!
> 
> Thank you for all your kudos! And feel free to leave comments as well!!


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you guys love/hate me yet?  
> When will the Hales catch a break?

Stiles knew that he could be a little bit clueless at times, like that time Derek and about 80% of the population of the country he ruled turned out to be werewolves and he had no clue, but he could forgive himself over this one. 

The second time being put in charge of Beacon Hills didn’t make it any easier. He tried to keep the castle running smoothly, and sat on the center throne and held court, listening to the complaints and begs of citizens as they spilled out their plights during this war before him, hoping for the crown’s help. Of course he did his best to help as many as he could, but some things just couldn't be helped. Cora also tried to lend her hand, the practice she’d had sitting as Derek’s right hand and next in line for the throne each time Derek went to war before his marriage to Stiles helping in leaps and bounds. 

He’d attributed it all to the stress. That was the excuse he’d present to himself every time. 

The nausea was a sporadic but somewhat constant factor in his life for a week or two at that point. He’d be totally fine one minute, like just as when Kira was blushingly telling Stiles about how she’d asked Scott if he’d like to share her next heat with her, the last step in the courtship before mating. While Stiles felt both happy for they and slightly disgusted by the sudden mental picture of Scott sharing a heat bed with anyone, a wave of dizzy nausea hit him hard and he was on his knees before the chamber pot as Kira’s cheerful retelling trailed off. 

Now the tiredness was much more easily equated to his new sole position as acting king. 

Nothing else jumped out to his mind as strange. Of course, it was down to Cora’s realization. 

Breakfast was always a small affair now, Peter only making the rare appearance, so it was down to just Stiles, Cora and Issac now, since the alpha had insisted that her intended mate joined them as family since at the next full moon they were planning to be formally bonded. Between bites there was just small talk between the three of them, always purposefully kept light and meaningless before they were all resigned to a hard day ahead. 

But just as Stiles bit into a piece of only lightly buttered bread, since the jam he’s indulged in now only seemed to upset his stomach more, Cora’s gaze brushed across the room looking a touch confused before she did a double take to him. Red mouth dropped open slightly as she stared at him for a moment, even as Issac continued to chatter on, blissfully unaware of her change in focus. 

Feeling suddenly self conscious, Stiles brushed at his mouth with the back of his hand to wipe away any crumbs that might have been there as he swallowed. Cora kept their interactions to a friendly minimum, as he learned was just her disposition and not purely a slight to him, and to stare like that was not part of her usual attitude. 

Issac finally noticed, eyes darting between the two before his ears perked up in the silence a smile breaking out on his face. “Oh Stiles, cong—“ he started before Cora jabbed an elbow into his side, finally breaking both of their eyes away from him. She whispered something to him, too quiet even in the close quarters for Stiles to hear, though no doubt loud and clear to his werewolf hearing. 

Stiles dropped the roll in his hand with a huff back to the plate, slouching back in the hard chair. “Does someone want to explain why you two are acting to weird all of a sudden, or am I just supposed to go along with it?”

He could visibly see Cora’s nostrils flair as she inhaled before scoffing and standing up. “Come on Stilinski,” she said, abandoning the half eaten breakfast at the table. “We’re gonna go on a little trip.”

“But I’m still eating!” Stiles complained, but the look she gave him left little room to argue, a look at must be natural to Hale’s since he’d seen that look regularly on Derek’s face, but unlike when Derek pulled it, he complied grumpily.

As they left the dinning room and walked down the hall, Cora suddenly reached out and locked her arm with Stiles’, pulling him possessively close. He was shocked, looking between their now interlocked arms and her face as she stayed facing straight ahead. “Indulge me,” was all she said.

Deaton’s door loomed in front of them real quick, and Stiles groaned. “I’ve just got a little upset stomach. It’ll go away by itself.”

She pushed the heavy wood open, now dragging him along a little and the good healer didn’t even look up from the herbs he was crushing at his workbench. 

Stiles was finally released from Cora’s iron grip and he sat down in a leather seat perhaps a bit harder than necessary. “Morning Deaton.”

The doctor didn’t acknowledge them for a moment, carefully separating whatever it was he was working with, before turning in his chair to calmly greet them. “Your highnesses, what can I help you with so early this morning?”

Cora was very blunt. “I’m quite sure that Stiles is pregnant.”

She might as well have hit him. “What?” Stiles spluttered, jaw dropped. “How would you even know anything about that? If I was pregnant, I’m pretty sure I’d be the first to know.”

She gave him a cool look, but it softened when it shifted down to his abdomen. “I—I can hear a heartbeat.”

Stiles ran hot, blood rushing in his ears, and his hands went up to cradle his still flat stomach. “But I haven’t had a heat since the last time you said I wasn’t pregnant,” he said, looking to Deaton. The idea of a child swirled in his head, violent in the way they beat around his mind, though it was still all so unclear.

“Omegas are substantially more likely to conceive during a heat, but they're the most fertile presentation regardless.” Deaton stood from the stool he’d been working on, looking at Stiles with a critical eye. “I’ve heard you’ve been having some trouble keeping foods down. How often is that happening?”

“Used to be a lot more often, like almost at least twice a day, but I’ve managed to knock it down to like once every other day at this point.”

Deaton just hummed, and patted the examination table. “Why don’t you lay down here for a moment your grace. How about any soreness around your chest?”

Stiles reluctantly clambered onto the table, squirming slightly as Deaton respectfully but proficiently lifted his tunic up and lowered his pants on his hips to expose his stomach. “Some, not a lot, just in the muscles as if I’d worked out just a little too much.” Feeling himself turn red Stiles noticed Cora watching diligently from over Deaton’s shoulder as the beta gently palmed and pressed his abdomen. 

“Oh for gods sake,” she groaned when his embarrassment washed over in his scent. “I can smell each and every time you and my brother sneak off to do dirty things to each other, so I think we can both handle me seeing your stomach as the doctor examines you.”

Stiles chose to just focus on the light presses of Deaton’s hands over the smallest pouch his stomach had developed from what had been assumedly from the comfortable lifestyle. One had stayed at the top of his abdomen while the other slide down, lightly palpitating right above his pelvic bone. It was all Stiles could do to stare at the ceiling above him and try to keep his breathing normal and steady. 

Finally Deaton removed his hands, letting Stiles sit up without saying a word though the omega and alpha both looked at him imploringly. “Cora,” he said finally, “If you could scent Stiles and describe what you smell.”

She stepped forward and Stiles bared his neck submissively, feeling suddenly very ticklish when her nose brushed over his scent gland. He felt the rush of air when she breathed in deeply, his own chest rising to mirror it as the nutmeg and smoky pine of her scent, faintly similar to Derek’s, filled his nose. 

“He smells like himself,” Cora said, leaning back but still staying close. “Like vanilla and cinnamon, but,” she struggled with her words. “Warmer,” she finally settled on. “Softer, more comforting.”

“His pheromones are trying to subtly coax pack members to stay around him, to protect him. That will grow stronger with time. It’s always easier to tell with the omega’s mate, but as a related alpha you do well enough. Just a final confirmation.” Deaton’s dark eyes turned to Stiles and he was surprised to see the hint of a smile on his face. “Congratulations Stiles, you’re with child. Since the heartbeat is now strong enough to be heard, I’d say you're at a point between your second and third month.”

Stiles wrapped his arms around his waist, suddenly hyperaware of his body, of the life delicately growing within him. “I’m really pregnant?”

“So much for carrier’s intuition,” Cora scoffed, though there was no heat behind it. Her hand hesitantly came to rest on his shoulder, but then after a moment rubbed between his shoulder blades with a pressure that could have made him melt. “I thought it’s always more obvious when an omega becomes pregnant? I remember my aunt knew she was almost instantly, or so she would brag.”

“Stress accounts heavily into that. In a prime situation, Stiles’ scent would have been giving off paternal pheromones within the first month, but as a protective tactic in a dangerous situation, his body surpassed it. Also, the alpha would be the first one to note any changes in Stiles, but obviously Derek isn’t here. I am surprised, however, that neither Kira or Lydia noticed, but considering that both girls have synced over time to Stiles’ cycle as he is head omega, their bodies are preparing to go into heat soon as Stiles would have been, so they are a bit preoccupied.”

Stiles nodded along, only faintly listening to the doctor continue on.

“Here,” Deaton pressed a small vial with liquid into the palm of his hand. “This tonic should help with the nausea, and with the fetus’ growth. I’ll send a vial every other day.”

His fingers wrapped so tight around the glass for a moment that something in the back of Stiles’ mind worried to a moment around the vial shattering and imbedding the glass into his hand before he uncorked it and swallowed it in two quick gulps. “I think I’d like to rest a little bit,” he said, still feeling rather far away.

He hopped down from the table and went to the door to leave, just as Deaton called out one more time, “Stiles,” he said, voice soothing as ever. “Be happy. You’re already glowing.”

Stiles gave him a small smile before turning away again.

It felt like he’d blinked and suddenly he was back in his chambers, crawling up on the bed to collapse over the covers, hands rubbing softly at his stomach. Already so many thoughts ran through his head; Was is a boy or a girl? What was it going to present? Would it look like him with brown eyes and moles or more like Derek with dark hair and a scowl on its face the minute they were born?

He heard the door creak open but he already knew who it was, still staring up at the celling and thinking. The bed dipped slightly on each side as both Kira and Lydia laid down and curled around him, exuding comfort and sweetness. 

Stiles had only been apart of a omega pile before, if he could even call it that. Omegas were the most tactile of any secondary gender, and while comfort from one’s mate was always the best, for unmated or lonely omegas, being huddled with tranquil scents and soft, reassuring touches felt like heaven, a reprieve from all stress and worry. There was always an immediate bond between any omegas, strengthening substantially through time, and Lydia and Kira were as close to him as Stiles’ own father.

He let out a soft whine when Lydia’s hand softly covered his own on top of his stomach. “Cora told us,” she said, voice just above a lazy whisper. “Congratulations.”

“Are you glad?” Kira’s eyes were wide when she looked up at him from where her head was resting beside his. “For the baby I mean.”

Stiles licked his lips then nodded. “It’s a tough time, I know, but I’m still selfishly happy. This baby is mine and Derek’s. It just hasn’t sunk in all the way.”

Lydia affectionally rolled her eyes. “Only you Stiles Stilinski would have such perfect timing.” He sighed as her fingers ran through his hair, massaging at his scalp. 

“What am I going to do without you guys for a week when your heat hits? And Kira’s stealing Scott too.”

The kitsune giggled. “You’ve still got Erica and Cora to keep you company, and I’m sure you’ll survive.”

 

—————————————————————

 

It was visible now.

Stiles stood in front of the full length mirror sideways with his nightshirt pulled up to expose his stomach. Before, the slight pudge could have just been attributed to the rich foods the castle offered and too much time sitting around on the throne or with a good book, but he woke up this morning and it was different. 

It was a clear round, harder curve to his belly. His body now displayed the child as it grew within him. Deaton said that the child would be roughly the size of a bean at this point, just their home taking up most of the room.

It was still small and easily covered by his clothes, especially now that winter settled it and he wore heavier coats and cloaks around himself. It was mostly for his own state of mind however. Most of the castle’s occupants were more than well aware of the heir growing within him.

The downside to have a staff full of wolves. 

The carefullest measures were put into place to keep the news from spread outside those stone walls and reaching potentially dangerous ears. Every member of staff of swore to secrecy under Cora’s convincing threats and every letter and message sent out of the castle was carefully check before it left. Stiles felt bad that for being the cause of such invasive measure to the people that worked beneath him, but them he remembered that it was for the safety of his child and was quickly eased.

The one thing that no one could seem to understand was his insistence that the news be kept from the other citizens in the war camps, especially Derek. Cora was furious at first when Stiles has refused to send word, not understanding why her brother should be deprived of the news of his child. 

“He’s in the middle of a war,” Stiles pleaded for her to see his way. “There’s already a giant red target on his back and he doesn’t need the distractions. He can’t come home yet, and you know that he’s already probably worrying himself sick over all of us. If he knew about this child, he’d go absolutely insane. I don’t want to put him at any more risk than he already is.”

Cora had just crossed her arms, still not happy with the idea but she let Stiles throw the encrypted letter into the flames of the fireplace. She left, but he stayed and watched it crumple and burn to ash in front of him, feeling sick the entire time in a way that had nothing to do with the pregnancy. 

Someday soon he would finally get the letter from Derek, the one that would say that their advances on the Argent troops were substantial enough, that they’d finally forced the enemy from their lands and that he could finally come home and finish the war effort from there. 

Now he had to be satisfied with short messages about the small successes the brigade was managing, the promises Derek made each time about how it would all be over soon and, worst of all, the way Derek wrote each time about how much he missed Stiles. Though, it did make him laugh a little when Derek made his profuse apologies that he would be able to break away to come home to see Stiles through his heat. The entire time Stiles wrote his reply he had a hand rubbing over where their child grew, while assuring Derek that he’d be fine seeing himself through the fictional heat. 

Truly, it was only mildly annoying when the time came when Stiles’ heat would have otherwise been, Lydia and Kira both were locked away in their own rooms but the corridors still had a faint whiff of their heats that had Stiles bothered and anxious. To maintain the outside allusion that Stiles’ wasn’t pregnant, he stayed in his rooms for the week, thankful as he worked off his secondhand arousal with his own hands and some old toys he’d used to see himself through heats before his marriage that he’d packed last minute in his move to Beacon Hills. 

It felt weird though now, standing there in his room and seeing the physical undeniable truth of his baby in the mirror. 

One hand pressed down on the curve, feeling how the skin was tightening and the swell of his womb surprisingly hard. There was a knock on the door and he dropped his shirt, then pulled it tight over his stomach to look at his belly another way. “Come in,”

Kira hurried in looking a little frantic. “We have an unexpected visitor,” she said, handing Deaton’s daily mixture to him as he spoke.

Stiles let go of his shirt, slowly unscrewing the cork on top. “Someone to be worried about? In any case, the castle isn’t supposed to be currently open to guests?”

“When he rode up, he didn’t give us much of a choice.” Kira sighed. “Lord Harris is one of the richest lords in Beacon Hills, his family lands have the gold and silver mines that support a lot of the kingdom’s finances. It’s not a good idea to offend him.”

Sighing, Stiles pinched the bridge of his nose, already feeling a migraine. “So we’ll let him in, give him a nice dinner and then send him on his way.”

Kira nodded, taking the now emptied contained and made her way out, presumably to let the guards know. 

Stiles winced to himself, stepping back to sit on the edge of his bed as a dull but increasing cramp radiated from his belly. The pregnancy had certainly not become any easier over time.

Everyone had laughed when he’d complained about the morning sickness and faint soreness after finding out he was the family way, always assuring him that it was just for a matter of weeks, then he’d slip into the easy part of the pregnancy. But by the time the second trimester arrived, he was only growing worse and everyone’s smiles slipped away.

The nausea was twice as bad, not only prompted by foods and smells now, but he was waking up in the middle of the night to lean over and heave into a bucket or stop a conversation to run and find a place to throw up other than an expensive rug. Besides his bump, he was rapidly losing weight. Dizziness and headaches struck at any time of the day prompted by simple things just as reaching a page or the sun’s brightness. He spent a lot of time sleeping now just to avoid the pain. 

Deaton didn’t show it, but Stiles knew that the doctor was concerned. On top of the potion that he now gave Stiles everyday to try to help further, he had weekly checks and Stiles knew that Kira and his guards would report what happened each time he grew sick.

It was all for a child in the end, he just reminded himself each time he felt like he was slowly dying. Once he held Derek’s baby in his arms all the pain in his memory would fade away. 

 

—————————————————————

 

Stiles quickly decided that he hated Lord Harris. 

The alpha was tall, skinny and keep looking down his nose through his spectacles at Stiles, as if he thought that his superior time was a blessing. 

Blowing his air out through his nose, Stiles wanted to burrow back into his chair. To act as buffers, Lydia and Kira were invited and Cora made sure that Peter was present, though she probably didn’t even need to have bothered with how pleased he looked at everyone else’s visible annoyance. 

“You’re rather pale, aren’t you, I don’t see the appeal in it really.” He lounged in a way that made Stiles just want to punch him in the face. The man speared a piece of quail with his knife, waving it around as he talked. “I never cared for Derek much, if I do say so. Now his sister,” he laughed. “There was a leader.”

Stiles could see the way that hit Cora, her knuckles going white where they were wrapped around her cutlery and her frown becoming more pronounced as she slowly chewed. Issac sat beside her and laid a hand on her arm, though Stiles was unused to the puppy-like boy’s harsh glare. Even Peter looked a little pained at the mention.

“So what brought on this visit, Lord Harris?” Lydia’s smile was so forced it looked like it might snap off any second. 

“Everyone assumed that the treaty was going along swell until the full moon attacks. My money helps keep our country’s economy afloat.” His eyes turned to Stiles stilling across from him. “I just want to see how management’s going on.”

There was no mistaking the intent behind that. Lord Harris might openly not be a fan of Derek, but it wasn’t hard to see that the man was one of the older mentality. That alphas were the prime example of a perfect specimen and the omegas were meant to serve and be obedient while popping out children at their mate’s whims. Stiles simply didn’t have the energy to rise to the bait.

“I intent to do what is best for all our people, and with Cora’s gracious help. You, among those people, have our consideration.”

Lord Harris just hummed, mouth busy with his food. As he’d loudly boasted earlier, he’d been on the road all day, heavily consumed by _his_ _duty_ to his fellow countrymen to make sure all was moving smoothly. He’d only paused for a minute when Stiles had finally greeted him, eyes immediately drawn to his stomach hidden beneath a dark blue robe. Stiles had tensed for a moment, sternly keeping his hands behind his back, but the alpha just leered at him for a moment. “A strong alpha heir for the country, good.” Stiles had just rolled his eyes the minute the man turned his face. 

But now, as they sat, he just spewed more and more nonsense about himself, his family and his worth. Stiles just pushed around the food in his plate with his fork, everything seeming just so unappealing in that moment. He could see the looks everyone sent him and between themselves, and so did Lord Harris, pausing between chews. “Not much of an appetite then?”’

Stiles just give him a weak smile, finally giving up and pushing the plate away. “No, not at the moment.”

“I do agree,” he said. “If I hadn’t spent the who day on the road, I would have found the quality of food quite surprisingly poor. You should consider a new cooking staff if the current ones are so incapable.”

Stiles’ teeth ground together as he tried not to snap at the man. The food cooked was absolutely delightful when he wasn’t resisting the urge to throw up. If he did, Stiles would take no efforts to avoid standing up and just letting loose on the alpha from across the table.

“Well we are so glad for your company.” Peter’s words were oily, nothing less than Stiles should expect from the man. 

“I am quite ravenous, and shame to let a kill go to waste.” To everyone’s stunned silence, the man reached across to pull Stiles’ plate close to himself, eyes solidly on the king consort as if judging his reaction.

Pressing his lips tightly together, Stiles instead just picked up the cup of tea he’d been slowly nursing. He wasn’t going to have eaten it anyway. He’d just have some lightly toasted bread and   broth sent to his room later. Maybe he’d be able to keep it down. 

They couldn’t offend the man and throw him solidly on his ass out of the castle doors or to spend a comfortable evening in the dungeons and he knew it. His money gave him too much power and Stiles hated it.

The rest of dinner passed as uncomfortably before they moved to the sitting room for an evening relaxation. Scott finally found himself enough time to slip away from guard duties, standing to a corner with Kira as the couple whispered sweet nothings to each other their disgusting romantics only doubled after the heat they spent together, not officially mated but as close as otherwise possible. Allison, against all recommendations and pleas, also joined them. Lord Harris regarded her with distrustful disbelief, but Allison just kept her head held high as she sat at the card table with Lydia, Cora and Issac. She’d kept on insisting that she, as an Argent, would not hide shamefully behind closed doors. As she repeated over and over, she’d done nothing wrong. 

Peter chatted away with Lord Harris and Stiles didn’t even want to know what the men were chatting so animatedly about. Probably something that would make his faith in humanity slip a notch lower. 

Stiles just slowly sipped his third cup of tea for the evening, mouth widening in a yawn. Another light cramp to the side of his belly had him shifting uncomfortably and immediately all the wolves’ heads snapped to him. Cora and Scott were the first ones on him, hands on him with faint black lines to take his pain, the cool trick Stiles had been outraged no one had told him about sooner. Kira and Issac hovered over them, both of them looking more distraught than he felt. 

“Aches and pains, an omega’s burden to carry,” Peter mused. “Such a shame.”

Lord Harris just snorted, wiping at his sweaty brow. “Perhaps they are too delicate even for that.”

“If you’d like to grow your child, your body stretch and provide for a growing being, I’m sure your wife would be more than relieved.” Lydia cleared had reached her limits around the man. 

“Stop it,” Stiles pushed away the hands over his body. “I think I’ve had more than enough for tonight. I’ll just retire back to my room.” Using the chair for support he stood, but taking no more than a few steps before his legs gave out under him for a moment and he stumbled. 

Scott’s reflexes were fast enough to shoot out and catch him around the waist to keep him upright, but the cup Stiles had still been clutching fell from his hands. In the back of his mind, Stiles could hear it fall and shatter on the floor, leftover tea inside probably already working to stain the wood. 

“Someone call for Deaton,” Cora ordered, and Allison quickly stood with a nod, feeling it was the most she could do. 

Stiles grumbled weakly as Scott eased him back into his chair, one hand wrapped stubbornly around his wrist to take his pain again. He could have pushed the wolf away again, but it felt so nice, for a moment, to be free of all the surmounting torment taking over his body. “I swear I’m fine. I just—“

He was cut off when Lord Harris, looking in decidedly worse shape than his arrival, bent over by the fire and vomited. It was horrible, looking more like a spew of black ink coming from his mouth rather than bile. Lydia let out a frightened cry as the man kneeled over his sick, groaning. 

“Wolfsbane poisoning!” Cora looked pale, eyes quickly shifting between all the other wolves, as if looking for signs that they were about to kneel over too. Everyone looked alarmed and disturbed, but no sicker. 

Over their shoulders, Stiles saw the way that Peter calmly stood over Lord Harris’ shaking body, still trying to get rid of the rest of the poison in his system. He looked down at the alpha with a calm fascination before his eyes, the faintest hint of glowing blue beneath them turned to Stiles.

The look void of expression made Stiles run cold even when surrounded by all the other, as if he was the only one that could see it. 

The commotion was only added to when the door swung open with Deaton’s arrival with Allison, both stunned by the new developments. 

“Must be wolfsbane,” Issac pointed frantically, golden curls shaking with his agitation. “He’s been poisoned.”

Deaton quickly set down his kit, rummaging through it for a moment before pulling out some sort of mixture. He squatted by Lord Harris, grabbing the man by the hairs on the back of his head to tip it back, pouring the liquid down his throat slowly even as the wolf spluttered. “That’ll help him get rid of the rest of it from his stomach.”

Then he quickly got up, coming to examine Stiles carefully, focused on his head and pains.

“Anyone else feeling off?? He asked even as he worked. Everyone murmured their nos and Stiles just closed his eyes. The image though, Peter standing still over the proud whining alpha with black dripping down his chin, was engraved to the back of his eyelids.   

“Why would someone want to poison Lord Harris? He’s a bully for sure, but I would have though that this would be the hardest place to get at him.” Kira was twisting the material of her skirt with her hands, watching Stiles carefully.

“Unless it wasn’t for him,” Lydia softly spoke up. “He ate Stiles’ plate too. But I don’t understand. Stiles isn’t a wolf, why use wolfsbane on him?”

Deaton went ridged for a moment, before sighing. “He’s not, but his child is. If the poison was truly meant for Harris, and larger dose would have been much quicker and much more effective, like death. This was a small amount of wolfsbane. A gradual poisoning.”

The room was deadly silent. Hands shaking, Stiles suddenly felt protective, clutching his belly. “Someone was trying to kill my child?” His words were a rough whisper, like saying it quietly would make the truth less damaging.

Cora and Scott both made wounded sounds, but Deaton nodded. “It accounts for the symptoms you’ve been having. An omega’s body is build to protect any child they bare, giving it all for their baby’s life. If the poisoning continued, your pup would have died and likely you along with it. If the poisoning has been going on for as long as I suspect looking back now, another week or two and you would have been bedridden from the pain. A few more after than and…”

He didn’t need to finish his sentence. The wolfsbane hadn’t been affect him at all, but attacking his child and the torture had been from his body trying to keep his little bean alive. Those few weeks more and he would have likely died fighting that battle. 

He started to panic at the thought, one hand beginning to claw at his own chest as he struggled to take in a breath as his chest lifted and exhaled much too quickly for him to get the oxygen he needed. He’d been slowly dying and didn’t even realize it.

Stile vaguely came back around enough to realize he was cradled now in Scott’s arms, as the beta soothingly tried to remind him to breath in and out to his heartbeat. Stiles pressed his ear to the beta’s chest, listening to his heartbeat and trying to imagine it as his child’s. 

Another assassination attempt.

But just like the first one by Kate, he was under no disillusions as to who had attempted the act. After all, as he closed his eyes listening to Scott’s chest, rocking slightly back and forth as he hiccuped trying to reset his breath, he could still see that sight of Peter. 

He shouldn't mistake lack of expression for the deranged detachment it was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't really think I need to comment further ;)
> 
> Thank you for all your kudos! And feel free to leave comments as well!!


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for being a little late this week! A bunch of tests in classes had me busy, but please enjoy this!

The night of the poisoning several measures had been put into place, for his protection and that of the rest of the royal family. Only the oldest, most trusted cook, a large stout woman with a ruddy face for spending her days over boiling pots who bemoaned that the food from her kitchen being used to poison the consort, and her assistant, a mousy young girl, were allowed to prepared the food that would be served to Stiles from then on. The extra sweet treats that always seemed to find their way onto his plates were like her way of apologizing. Cora suggested having a taster for his food just in case it was still somehow tampered with, but Stiles couldn’t forget the sight of Lord Harris heaving up what seemed like death right in front of of him and couldn’t order someone to be at risk of going through that for him. 

Anyway, he couldn’t see anyone going around that cook to drop anything in his food, if her strong, meaty hands and sharp eyes were any indication. 

It only took one more day for Scott and his men to weed out who’d been slipping the wolfsbane into every meal he took. There was a commotion in the Great Hall and Stiles ventured out of the library to see two guards hauling a servant girl between them, even as she spit and kicked at them, Scott following behind them with a hard look to his face. “What’s going on?”

“She’s an Argent spy,” Scott said, walking up to him and pulling a letter out of his belt. “She’s been the one poisoning you, adding the wolfsbane to your plate when it was sitting on the kitchen counter to be taken up by the servers.”

Stiles turned the letter over in his hand, seeing the broken Argent seal in red. It was no surprise, but the details in the crest that identified it as Kate’s made his grip tighten, crumpling the parchment within his fingers. This simple letter ordered the death of his child before it even took it’s first breath and his own life in the process. To cripple Beacon Hills, to destroy Derek and to take his family for the second time. 

“This was in her room?” Stiles asked, voice rough.

Scott nodded and took out a second bottle, carefully closed and half filled with a nearly shimmering grey power. “Tucked into a small hole in her mattress, along with this. Deaton says the powder is fine enough that it would dissolve with any heat and moisture in your food. Nearly undetectable unless a werewolf consumed it themselves.”

The girl had stopped struggling in the strong grip the two betas had on her upper arm, looking unthreatening with her tight short cropped curls and how skinny she was, but the glare in her eyes digging at Stiles said otherwise.

“You made an attempt on the lives on the monarchy,” Stiles called to her. “You realize that can only call for your own death for treason?”

She said nothing for a moment, until one of the guard’s jostled her. “You will speak when the king asks you a question,” Scott growled out at her.

“I do what my captain asks of me,” she finally spoke, voice raspy. “My country is worth dying for, so that it won’t fall into the hands of filthy beasts or their traitorous breeding whores like you.”

A chorus of growls rang out in the hall, all the servants and others watching the spectacle looking ready to pounce and rip the assassin limb from limb with ease. But Stiles kept his eyes on the girl, seeing how she didn’t flinch or pay them any mind, her attention solely on him. He just lifted his chin, feeling absolutely no sympathy for the girl. 

His hand curled over the swell of his belly where his little bean rested, turning to Scott. “Take her away and do whatever you need. But send Kate’s little surrogate assassin back to her.”

Scott looked surprised. “You’re going to let her live?”

“I never said that.”

An understanding dawned over Scott’s face and he nodded to his men as they pulled the girl away. Stiles didn’t watch, turning away when she screeched at him over her shoulder. 

“You think that by getting rid of me, you and your abomination are safe?” Her voice was piercing, stopping Stiles’ movement. “I will not be the last to cut you down, and you will all crumble! You’re fucking fools, all of you! You don’t even know the extent of who your enemies really are!” She broke off into a rough laugh, sounding nearly insane as they pushed her around the corner of the hall, no doubt leading her to the dungeons as her voice trailed off. 

“Don’t worry Stiles,” Scott said, pushing out his chest. “Nothing’s ever going to harm you or your baby ever again. I swear my life on it.”

Stiles let out a weary sigh, a hand squeezing over his friend’s bicep. “Thanks Scotty, I believe you.”

He still felt weary as the poison still flushed out of his system, and decided that after the commotion it was probably best that he took a little time to relax in his own private rooms. As Stiles turned to head up the stairs, he saw that three more had been called by the scene. At the top stood Allison and Lydia, the omega softly holding the ridged-looking alpha by her arm. Allison just stared after where the girl had been dragged away, jaw clenched tight enough that it looked like she might crack a tooth. 

Stiles almost missed Peter standing behind the shadow of the banister, looking as clearly detached at the sight of the assassin’s arrest as he had at Lord Harris almost dying. His eyes snapped to Stiles for a moment, and they flashed blue, looking down at his stomach with a twist of his lips before he turned on his heels and was gone in a few long strides.

Perhaps he was just being silly and hormonal, but Stiles always felt like a stalked prey under Peter’s eyes as his stomach grew more visible. Like if he stayed too long in a room alone with the man, he would pounce and rip his claw’s through Stiles to pull out his baby with his teeth.

It had to just be the hormones. 

When he climbed the stairs, one hand carefully on the handrail, Allison didn’t look to him until he was right next to her. “She was one of my aunt’s right hands,” she said, voice strained. “She always seemed so nice when I saw her, helping me train sometimes.”

Stiles didn’t know how or have the energy to comfort her. “Sometimes the people around us aren’t exactly the same person that we see in our mind.”

“You alright?” Lydia asked him, still holding on to Allison’s arm. 

“I’m just still tired,” he said. “I’m gonna go lay down for a little bit.”

He moved past them, but turned back when Allison sharply called his name. Her hand flexed over the hilt of her sword that she constantly wore strapped to her hip. “I’m sorry, for all that my family’s put you all through.”

Stiles just shook his head. “You don’t have anything to apologize for. The reason why you’re even here should say enough.”

She gave him a small smile he easily returned before a yawn threatened to pop his jaw. He really needed that nap.

 

—————————————————————

 

“I’ve been eating a lot of jam with pickled eggs. I think that Issac comes close to vomiting every time he looks on my plate.”

Deaton chuckled as he softly examined Stiles’ stomach, hands softly palpitating and feeling the harden shaped of his womb. “Odd cravings, but cravings all the same. It’s just you’re body’s way to supplying the nutritions it’s currently lacking. As long as you avoid anything bitter, acidic or too rich, you should be fine. I’ve already informed the cook.”

Stiles was leaning back on his arms, shirt pushed up over the swell and wedged into his armpits to keep it up as he happily sucked on a mint leaf. He’d read in one of his books on omega’s that it would help with heartburn, and so far it was doing just fine. “How’s the bean looking?”

Deaton rolled his eyes, hands sliding off of Stiles’ belly as he stood. “The baby is more comparable in size to a peach at this point.”

Stiles shrugged. “The nickname caught on in my head. They’re my little bean.”

Deaton didn’t look as amused as Stiles felt. “Well,” he said. “The poison has all but flushed out and the pup has been flourishing lately. They’re still on the smaller side, but with their recent increase in growth, I’m not concerned in the slightest at this point. How have you symptoms been now?”

Stiles finally felt the midway ease of his pregnancy that had been described to him over and over again. After a few weeks the color finally returned to his cheeks, his moles no longer stark on a sickly white completion, and the nausea and exhaustion had eased until they were nearly completely gone. It was still incredibly hard to not have Derek home, waking up grasping at a cold side of the bed and at some point suddenly dripping slick in embarrassingly aroused flashes out of nowhere. However, it was slightly alleviated by Stiles sleeping in some of Derek’s well worn night shifts, wrapped in the soft material and remaining scent, and scent marking with Cora, who wasn’t quite right, but as Derek’s sister her scent and bond was close enough to give him the comfort he was so desperately seeking. 

“Much better!” He said happily. “I’ve been having some heartburn, but the mint’s helping with that, and some trouble sleeping lately. But this time it’s been more of I’ve been having trouble getting comfortable enough to fall asleep. I blame the bean.”

Deaton hummed as he pulled a sort of crooked trumpet-like thing out of somewhere. “It’ll be a growing annoyance as your pup grows bigger and bigger. We’ll have a special pregnancy sleeping pillow made for you to sleep with, it’ll make sleeping on your side much more comfortable from now until the pup is born.” He placed the widest end of the trumpet thing against the swell of Stiles belly, holding up a finger to shush him just as Stiles opened his mouth. He kept waiting a moment then moving it over a few inches, again and again. Finally he paused, listening to one spot closer to Stiles’ right side for a moment, before pulling away satisfied. “Their heartbeat sounds good.”

“I wish I could hear the bean’s heartbeat. Everyone else can,” Stiles grumbled. At this point he was tired of werewolf hearing, how people would gush and tell him how strong his baby sounded, how wonderful. In all honestly, Stiles just wanted to be able to hear it to reassure him that it was still alive sometimes after he had nightmares where the cramps he’d had before only grew worse and worse until it was agony, blood gushing out and coating his thighs, the poison finally killing his baby. 

“Unless you’re able in your condition to contort yourself enough to bend over your stomach and press your ear, I’m afraid you’ll have to wait until that child is laying on your chest to listen to its heart.” 

Stiles made a face as Deaton pulled away again, gesturing that he was able to pull his shirt down again. “That’s such a long time from now.”

“Might not feel so long by the time you get there.” Deaton leaned back on his workbench across from Stiles, arms crossed. “Have you been experiencing any soreness in you breasts aside from the initial tenderness.”

“I do not have breasts,” Stiles said firmly. He was an omega but he was a man damn it. “—But yes, it kind of hurts to press down on them.”

That didn’t seem to surprise Deaton and he continued on. “Male omegas are still able to produce milk for their young, but in much smaller quantities and for a shorter time. Once closer to labor, your pectorals will swell a small amount when they actually completely fill with milk. If you choose to go with a wet-nurse, your body will get the message and stop producing the milk within the first few months.”

It wasn’t a particularly appealing idea, but Stiles was still considering the idea. They said that feeding a child from the omega’s own chest helped form the bond quicker and stronger. Something in the pheromones or something. Stiles just shrugged. “I’ll decide when I get there.”

Deaton opened his mouth yet again when the door to his rooms slammed open, Jackson Whittmore looking vaguely out of breath. 

“We didn’t have time to send a messenger ahead,” he ground out, eyes solely on Deaton as if Stiles wasn’t in the room. “He was shot with a wolfsbane arrow and we were able to get the same supply from the Argent camp to rub the ash into the wound, but it took us and while and he’s not getting better.”

“Who?” Stiles asked, gaze bouncing between both men, but no one answered him. 

“Where are they?” Deaton asked.

“They were right behind him. I just rode ahead a little to prepare you. They’ll be here any minute. Boyd and Erica are bringing him in.”

Someone could have dumped a bucket of ice water on Stiles and it wouldn’t have felt any different. There was only one person that could cause the captain of the guard and his right hand to both rush from their men in the middle of a battlefield to bring him to the castle healer. 

Stiles slid off of the examination table to plant himself right in front of Jackson, unavoidable for him to seen. His fists were clenched so hard his nails were digging painfully into his own palm, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. “Who is it?”

The mournful way Jackson looked at him said enough.

 

—————————————————————

 

Whenever Stiles pictured Derek coming home, which he did often, his husband was always sat atop his prized black stallion, still wearing his armor that had blood splattered across it. But he was always smiling, victorious and happy, and then he would quickly dismount and go to kiss Stiles, who could happily take his hand and guide it down to the large swell where their pup was growing under his cloak. 

He never pictured the scenario where Derek was dragged into by his seconds to Deaton, unconscious and heavy between them. 

It was getting awkward to move quickly with his growing weight on his belly, forced to start walking with his hips leading, but he all but ran down to the courtyard where Erica and Boyd were struggling to dismount without dropping Derek to the dirt. His fine armor, fit for a king, was gone, instead he wore this plain tunic with a thick bandage wrapped around his upper torso, the barest bit of crimson soaking through at his shoulder. 

Stiles had taken wavering steps towards them, unsure what he was going to do, but know he had to do something, until Scott and Kira caught him and pulled him back with soft words. He fought against them without any real aggression, knowing that Deaton needed his space to work. As they hurriedly passed by with Deaton to his work room for a true examination the air wafted to where the three of them stood and Stiles let out a choked whine, slapping a hand over his nose. 

Derek’s scent had always been lovely to Stiles, comforting and heady, but now the sickly scent of death clung to it, souring it the same way that it had clung to his mother when she’d lay tired and delusional in her bed the few days before she succumbed to her disease. 

Sepsis, Deaton had explain when Stiles was only vaguely listening, sitting beside the small bed where Derek rested once he’d been allowed inside. Blood poisoning. 

Stiles almost wanted to laugh in a deranged manner. Were the gods so vengeful that he had survived a poisoning that they would cruelly take Derek in such an ironic fashion. 

Stiles refused to leave Derek’s beside the entire day, becoming his own personal nurse. His skin was a sickly pale, dark circles around his eyes, hair drenched in sweat when Stiles ran his fingers through his husband’s dark locks. Deaton was more than understanding, though he gave Stiles two demands if he was to stay, to constantly consume fluids and to actually eat the food that had been brought for him instead of letting it just go cold to the side. 

Night had fallen, as Stiles could tell from the small windows decorating the upper parts of Deaton’s walls, but still he sat there on a stool, ignoring the twinges of pain across his hips and lower back as he softly patted Derek’s forehead with a cooled moist cloth, trying to combat the fever. There was a small knock and Erica softly shuffled into the room looking as tired as Stiles had ever seen her. He only spared her a poor excuse of a smile before turning his attention back to Derek, his heart clenching at the rapid and irregular rise of his chest. 

“He thought of you everyday, you know,” Erica said quietly after a moment of silence. Stiles couldn’t find the words to respond properly so she continued, both of their eyes solidly on the men tucked into the bed. “In all the years I’ve known Derek, I’ve never seen him homesick, always focused on the fight and the hunt. All he could do was talk about you, talk about how important bringing this war to an end was to keep you safe,” she paused for a breath, arms tucked rigidly into her armpits. “About how much he loved you.”

Stiles hands began to tremble slightly and he left the cloth to sit on Derek’s forehead, trying to mask the shaking by smoothing down his covers. “You shouldn’t use past tenses,” he said to the cotton. “It’s bad luck. He’s not dead yet. He’s going to be fine. He’s an alpha after all.”

Erica didn’t say anything, just standing on the opposite side of the bed while Stiles fretted over Derek, whispering soft comforting things to him. She shifted her weight back and forth uncomfortably, as if unsure if she should stay or leave and after a moment Stiles took pity on her. Sitting back in his seat, he finally looked at her, a tired headache pounding in his head. “What happened? I mean, I know that Deaton said that he has some sort of blood poisoning, but I thought that werewolves couldn’t get sick from stuff like that?”

“It started with wolfsbane. Derek was distracted during the battle, and then I think he just saw Kate fighting up ahead and no one could stop him when he rushed to her. He just didn’t see the archer until it was almost too late. The arrow just grazed him, cut his shoulder, but the Argents have been coating all their arrowheads with wolfsbane and it was hard to get more of the wolfsbane from the same supply to burn to ash to rub into the wound. By the time that we were able to get some he was really sick. It’s hard to be too clean out in a battle campaign and the wound wouldn’t close until then. That’s where the sepsis came in.”

“Where was his armor? This shouldn’t have happened if he was wearing his armor.” There was no heat in his words, just weariness. 

Erica brushed a stray lock of blonde hair behind her ear. The sass, the attitude that was always present in her, was gone in the solemn tension in the air. “There wasn’t a lot of time and Derek decided not to waste his energy strapping it on. The Argents were getting desperate with how quickly we were able to push them back further and further. I guess Kate decided the last move they had in their pocket was to attack us early in the morning. We all woke up to the sound of the on-watch guards being attacked and there wasn’t a lot of time to think before jumping into action.” She stopped, letting go of herself so one hand could softly rest on her alpha’s shoulder. “He was just trying to make sure that we had as few casualties as possible. But then he saw Kate for the first time since your poisoning and just went berserk.”

Stiles jolted in his seat. “You knew about that? Derek wasn’t supposed to know about any of that!” His hands fisted in the covers, cursing to himself. This was exactly why he didn’t want to tell Derek anything, the exact reason why he’d feared worrying Derek had come true with his husband in a fevered state in front of him. “I knew something like this would happen if he knew anything.”

“And I take it that’s why you refrained from telling him about his pup?” Erica pointedly looked at his belly, visible beneath his loose pants and untucked tunic. 

Stiles just scoffed. “Could you imagine? I was poisoned but easily survived and he’s halfway to getting himself killed. He would have been like this the entire time if I’d told him that I found out I was with child right after he’d left.” One of Stiles’ hands snuck across the covers to grasp at Derek’s unresponsive one. “He’s already lost so much of his family, almost lost me and I know how much a child would mean to him. I just don’t want to lose him either.”

The silence stretch for a little while, only punctuated by the minor pops from the fireplace soaking the room with heat. Erica finally moved, circling around the bed to bend down and wrap her arms around Stiles. He was stiff for a moment, not expecting the sudden move from her, but after a beat he relaxed into it, nestling his head into the crook of her shoulder with his eyes closed. 

“We’re all so glad that you became Derek’s mate,” she murmured into his hair, hands softly rubbing at his shoulders. “We all had to watch him grow into a sad, lonely man who was constantly trying to punish himself for things out of his control.” Her scent was muted but savory like ginger. “You’ve made him happy for once. No matter what, you’ve been an amazing part of his life.”

Stiles’ throat felt a bit thick but still he laughed. “If you keep acting so sappy I’m gonna kick you out.”

“Actually,” Cora’s voice floated over both of them. “I think I’ll have to kick you both out now.” Erica let him go and they both turned to the princess striding in, smirking at both of them. “You’ve been here almost the entire day Stiles, and I think it’s my time to take care of my big brother. You need to go get some sleep.”

“Cora, I—“ Stiles just began to argue, looking to Derek, but his sister-in-law just clucked her tongue and began to try to gently push him from his seat. 

“You’re doing the important task of growing my little niece or nephew, the next heir to the throne, and you need to take care of yourself. My brother just needs time to recover until he’s back up on his feet, and you need to be in top condition once he is. So, off to bed.”

Stiles didn’t thoroughly argue, letting both the women easily pull him up and push him to the door. “If anything changes, you’ll get me right away.”

Cora nodded and Stiles let Erica tuck his hand under her arm, leading him gently but firmly from the room. Stiles just got one last glance at Derek, lying as unmoved as ever in Deaton’s patient bed, before Cora settled in next to her brother, a sad expression crossing over her face as she reached for the wet cloth Stiles had abandoned. 

Sometimes Stiles forgot that Derek wasn’t the only one that had lost so much in his life. Cora, at an even younger age, had lost her parents, sister, and family just the same but still held her head high and her words sharp. Stiles admired her unwillingness to show weakness.

He and Derek had more support outside themselves, a family in the rest of the castle. 

The thought made him smile dopily, even when Erica laughed at the look on his face. 

Two days later the fever that had been burning like a furnace through Derek’s body broke, much to everyone relief. Now that the worst was over, Stiles was anxious for Derek to wake up once again, refusing to be away from Derek for more time than when his body demanded a break to empty out his bladder. 

The whole day, Stiles sat there, tension running in hot wires through his body. Any twitch from Derek made him jump up, sure that he was finally awake again on his own, only to settle down disappointed. He gently coaxed water down his throat, throwing the windows open to clear the stale air with a crisp wintery breeze and just waited. 

By the time for lunch, he just sat there, balancing a tray of oranges on his knee and reading a small story book out loud. Deaton had told him that werewolf fetus’ gain strong senses quite early, and that his little bean could probably hear him at that point. Determined to begin forging a strong bond with the child, Stiles wanted them to already know his voice, so he read almost everyday to them. It was good practice for later, when he planned to read them to bed the same way that his mother had every night before she died, always making the characters jump animatedly from the scrawled pages to his imagination with his voice. 

Pausing his reciting, he carefully separated another slice and savored the way the flavor burst onto his tongue with a happy hum. There was a fluttering under his belly that he just annoyingly attributed to trapped gas as he’d felt since near the beginning of his pregnancy. He chewed the orange slice slowly, his free hand resting softly on his stomach and drawing small circles over the taunt skin. 

Everyday he got bigger, it was cemented further and further into his mind that in a short couple of months he would be holding a child in his arms. Of course he knew that all along, but it felt less and less like a fictitious dream and more like a gift creeping closer and closer. 

It also got more and more uncomfortable. “I know it’s only going to get worse from here,” he spoke to his belly, “And you’re probably gonna start feeling really cramped really soon, but let’s try to both make the best of our time while you’re in there. Then we can have a super fun time once you’re out here with us. Because I already love you so much, and your other daddy does too, even though he hasn’t met you yet. But while you’re still in me, maybe lay off of my bladder if you love me at all,” he said with a chuckle, shifting uncomfortably a bit. 

Peeling away another orange slice, he lifted the book back up, opening his mouth to continue when Derek shifted on the bed. Not just a tiny movement like he’d been doing all day, but a full body twist with a small groan as he squeezed his eyes shut tighter for a minute before they squinted open. Stiles gasped, nearly sending the small plate crashing to the floor as he straightened up, all but carefully throwing both of his items to a nearby table and then falling over Derek. 

“You’re awake, oh my god Derek! You’re alright!” Stiles couldn’t help the tears that began to straight up drip down his cheeks, so happy and overwhelmed at the rush of emotion of seeing those hazy green eyes blinking at him. “How are you feeling?”

Derek slowly sat up, rolling his shoulders and wincing at the loud residing cracks from his spine. “Pretty Thirsty,” he croaked out, voice rusty.

Stiles tripped over himself rushing to get to the door to yank it open and startle the guard half asleep on the other side. “Get Deaton,” he rushed out. “And some water and plain food from the kitchen for the king.” Then he turned back around and sat on the edge of the bed, smiling at Derek. “You had be really worried there. Werewolf healing or not, you could have died.”

Derek didn't comment, just looking at Stiles with a confused but hopefully expression. “Your scent. It changed.” His eyes slowly shifted down to Stiles’ belly and his breath hitched. “You— Are you…” 

It was like he couldn't bring himself to finish the question so Stiles just straightened his back so the bump was more obvious and laid one hand under the curve of his belly while using the other to bring Derek’s hand to rest atop it. “We finally got our own little pup Derek. I like to call it my little bean.”

“I can hear it's heartbeat,” Derek said, voice hushed with wonder, hand still on Stiles’ belly. “It sounds strong.”

“Like it's father.” Stiles smiled, enjoying the sensation of Derek's fingers splayed over his belly. “I know that it wasn't for the best of situations, but I'm just glad you're home.”

“Why didn't you tell me?” Derek's voice suddenly sounded very small and hurt. He didn't move his hand, but his eyes were very purposefully trained on Stiles’ belly, not looking at him. 

Stiles just sighed. “It wasn't anything I really wanted to keep from you, but you were already gone by the time I found out about the little bean, and you already had enough to worry about. I didn't want you to lose you head, the way you did when you got shot. Derek, it would have just put you even more danger and I wouldn't be able to stand it if something happens to you, even more than it already has.”

Derek didn't move for a moment, as still as stone, until, finally, his other hand curved around Stiles’ own and he looked at Stiles in the eyes with a small curve to his lips. “Little bean?”

Stiles blinked, then laughed. “A few weeks ago, Deaton told me that the pup was roughly the size of a pinto bean and the nickname kind of just of stuck in my head.”

“Our pup. Our little bean.” The happiness in Derek’s face made Stiles want to cry again, internally cursing his hormones, and he let Derek gently pull him in for a chaste kiss, smiling even as they pressed their lips together. 

They pulled apart, pressing their foreheads together and Stiles couldn’t help a sniffle, trying to blink back the tears wetting his eyelashes. “I’m just glad you’re home Derek, you don’t know how much I’ve missed you.”

“I think I got an accurate idea.”

The door swung open and Deaton walked in, with Cora, Peter and Kira close behind him. Derek and Stiles pulled apart just enough to give enough room for Cora to all but fling herself to her brother, arms wrapping tight around him and face screwed tight. Derek retuned her hug with one arm, his other hand refusing to give up Stiles’ hand. Kira quietly inched forward and placed a pitcher of water and a plate of plain food, soft breads and thick broth, which he silently thanked her for. Deaton respectfully waited until after Cora released her brother before stepping in to make sure that all would be back to normal thanks to the accelerated healing finally kicking in, but Peter just stayed by the door, watching with no hint of the light atmosphere on his face. 

Of course Derek complained rather loudly about his annoyance at being fussed over like a child despite being unconscious for a good part of the past three days, which Deaton dryly pointed out as Cora smacked his shoulder. 

Back and forth it went on, giving Stiles the dredges of what promised to be a sore headache, when a different, solid sort of sharp strike from the inside of his belly had him gasp, both hands flying to the bump. Immediately all eyes went to him.

“What is it?” Derek asked, already panicked by his racing heartbeat and the shocked way he held himself. 

“I—I,” Stiles couldn’t find the words for a second, letting out another surprised sound when the sensation happened again. At that Derek looked ready to pass out again.

Deaton was much less panicked, Stiles could say he was almost smiling, which was a full out toothy grin for the healer. “I think he’s experiencing the pups first full kick. Coming in right on time.”

Kira and Cora both cooed at him and Derek’s eyes zeroed in on his child, looking again like he couldn’t comprehend what was right in front of him. Stiles took his hand and tried to place it right over where he’d felt the first kicks, beaming when their obedient little pup kicked right under their father’s palm. “There! Did you feel that one?”

Derek looked so pitifully disappointed Stiles almost laughed, looking for all the world like a kicked puppy. “Nothing.”

“A pups kicks are usually too weak at first for anyone besides the carrier themselves to be able to feel. Give him or her a little time and those muscles will strengthen right up. Eventually, you’ll even be able to see them moving against Stiles’ stomach.” Derek looked delighted at the idea while Stiles blanched. As much as he loved the idea of his child finally moving, showing proof of their growing life, having them visibly shifting within him brought horrifying visuals to his mind. 

“How adorable,” Peter said with falsely sweet enthusiasm. “Already proving the alpha he should be.”

Stiles turned to glare at Peter. He didn’t want any words about his child passing that man’s lips. “We don’t know if it’s a boy or even an alpha, and I don’t care. Right now it’s just my little bean.” Then a thought crossed him mind and he turned to Derek, slightly more timid. “Do you care?”

Derek shook his head and Stiles felt his shoulders that he didn’t know he’d tensed up relax immediately. “Ten fingers and toes and maybe your moles and I’ll be perfectly happy.”

Stiles heard Peter mutter something darkly to himself, and saw Kira almost melt in the corner of his eye at how soppy it all was, but he didn’t care, just smiling at Derek so hard his cheeks soon began to hurt. 

After a bit more urging, Derek finally broke down enough to let Deaton inspect him over, though he stubbornly left his hand over Stiles’ stomach, as if still expecting the pup to deliver a kick suddenly hard enough to feel. Stiles just indulged him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone can even begin to suspect correctly what shit is going to hit the fan in the next few chapters, I give you my kudos. But let's let them be happy for a little while, shall we?
> 
> Thank you for all your kudos! And feel free to leave comments as well!!


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh, sorry for the late post! I was going to split this chapter originally into two, but I just couldn't find a good place to split it, so here's an extra long chapter for you guys! Enjoy!

Having Derek back finally provided the piece of alleviating Stiles’ stress and allowed him to finally take the time to appreciate and enjoy the final stretch of his pregnancy. 

While omega’s could certainly go through the process on their own, cases such as their mate’s unfortunate death or if the alpha is currently desperately needed elsewhere, but it was also so much smoother if the mates were able to stay together and rely on each other’s support. 

Derek took his pregnancy in stride, as soon as he was up back on his feet in the few days, he immediately smothered Stiles as reverently as he did with anything else. Stiles found himself always surrounded by soft and fluffed pillows wherever he sat and rested, a small groan sometimes slipping past his own lips when they started to alleviate the straining ache that was beginning to grown between his hips and lower back. Deaton said that ache would only grow worse as the pup grew heavier and Stiles could only follow the daily movements and stretches the healer suggested to help while Derek hovered over him like he was scared Stiles might accidentally pull something or end up squatting too hard and popping out their child right there on the bedroom floor.

He was equally enthusiastic in giving Stiles bone melting massages, always digging his thumbs into the knots of tension and strain in his back and shoulders with perfect pressure or the arches of Stiles’ feet with wonderful strokes until the pregnant omega was half asleep and drooling over himself. 

The one thing that Stiles didn’t truly understand was why the alpha kept thanking him so enthusiastically and often. Each time he’d catch Derek staring, entranced, at his belly, or when Derek would just occasionally and consistently brush his hand over the swell of the bump as if to reassure himself it was still there, Stiles would catch the whispered “Thank you,” always aimed at him though not meant to be heard. 

Stiles’ curiosity finally got the best of him one morning as he lay in bed with Derek as the lazy morning sunlight filtered into their room. He was on his back, blankets covering his lower body with his shirt pulled up to expose his belly as Derek talked to it, head gently laid on the lower part of the swell.

Everyday Stiles was becoming more and more uncomfortable in his own body, beginning to feel disgusted at the way his bellybutton jutted out and silvery stretch marks began to appear on his skin. To combat that and the itchiness of his skin as it stretched, he had a herbal-smelling cream to apply every night that Derek had worked into their shared habits, letting Stiles sit between his legs as they got ready for bed with the omega’s back against his front as Derek lovingly rubbed the cream over and into his skin. 

As silly as he knew he was being, Stiles knew just they were turning the corner soon to his third trimester, and his body was no longer singularly his own for the time being. It was an odd situation to wrap his mind completely around as he lived through it.

On the other hand, Derek absolutely loved his body, practically swelling with pride overtime he looked at Stiles’ growing form, already as in love with their pup as Stiles was.

His murmurs to the pup were quiet as Stiles absently ran one hand through his soft dark hair and stared up at the celling, thinking to himself. Derek insisted, after Stiles informed him of the pup’s ability to hear from inside the womb, to talk to his belly at least once a day and Stiles tried to give them as much privacy as possible when one of the members of the single sided conversations was currently taking up residence in his stomach. 

He tried to think back to the issues prompted at the last council meeting, most pertaining to the still continuing war effort, when a sharp kick from the inside made him wince to himself. A few weeks after he first felt her true kicks, he or she became strong enough that their movements could be felt by Derek’s hand, who promptly managed to keep his hands glued to Stiles for the next solid week. The pup’s kicks only grew more frequent and more forceful as time went, and while Stiles enjoyed his child’s spirit, he was less enthusiastic to be bruised from the inside out. 

He craned his neck a little to look down at Derek as he talked to the pup in hushed tones and strained to listen to what the alpha was saying. 

“What a good little pup you are,” he said quietly but in awe, hand splayed over where the movement had been. “So strong, just like your papa and I. But as much as I love your little kicks, let’s not hurt him too much. He’s working so hard to prepared you for the world with us. So instead of kicking him too hard, we should say thank you and let him relax.”

Finally Stiles spoke up, making Derek’s eyes flicker up to look at him over the rise of his belly. “You know, he only kicks more when you speak, your voice just makes him more excited.”

“He?” Derek’s dark brows raised, fixing Stiles with an amused look. “You’ve been using male pronouns from time to time recently,” he teased. “Hoping for a little prince?”

“I don’t know, I really don’t care.” Stiles let his head fall back to flop on the stacked pillows. “Carrier’s intuition maybe?” Which let him to another thought. “So papa, huh?”

Stiles had never really seen Derek blush before, hard to see it through the dark scruff covering the lower portion of his face, but he just thought it was exceedingly adorable. “If you don’t like it, you don’t have to go by it. I just thought it would easier for them to start to hear whatever names we’re gonna go by.”

Stiles thought for a moment. “So, if I get to be papa, does that mean that you’re daddy?” Derek nodded and Stiles grinned. “Papa and Dada for the first stretch. I could get used to that.”

A hard kick or elbow from their pup was his or her stamp of approval and a smile split across Derek’s lips. “Alright then, Papa,” he said, left hand sliding up to grasp at Stiles’ hand, their wedding bands clinking against each other softly. 

It was comfortably silent for a moment again, their hands clasped together and their pup finally settling down and finished playing ball with Stiles’ kidneys. But the question that had kept nagging against Stiles’ mind for the weeks since Derek had come back home kept bouncing around louder and louder in his skull, demanding to break loose. “You keep on saying thank you,” Stiles’ voice cut clear through the silence, though he wasn’t even being very loud. “You think I don’t hear or don’t notice but I do. I just don’t understand why you keep saying that.”

Derek didn’t answer right away, eyes suddenly focused on his free right hand, just gently tracing over the curve of Stiles’ protruding stomach. Then, slowly, he pushed himself up into one elbow, still staring intently at Stiles’ belly like he could see right through to where the pup rested. 

“This castle used to be filled with Hales,” he said finally. “There were always kids and teenagers running around, infants in the nursery, and the rooms were always occupied by my aunts, uncles and the rest of our extended family.” He sighed. “We were one of the most powerful, largest known packs, even without all our other betas and inducted pack members. Then it all went away in that single night.”

He paused with a shaky breath, and Stiles softly whined, feeling his pain soaking through every pore. Besides the night that Stiles found out about werewolves and his husband’s past, they never really discussed the Hale fire. As much as he tired to convince Derek that his family’s death wasn’t his fault, that he shouldn’t blame himself, he knew that the alpha still did and always would carry that guilt heavily on his shoulders. So, they just mutually agreed, without even needing to discuss it, to never bring it up unless absolutely necessary. 

Now Stiles just listened. “That feeling of emptiness goes even further than grief over losing my family. As an alpha child of the pack alpha, the pack connections were very strongly bond to myself and both my sisters too. That loss, then and especially now as the current pack alpha, it feels like a part of me has been be ripped out, leaving an empty wounded space that could heal over time but it just scars over, never going back to the way it was.” Derek’s hand trembled slightly when he just laid it flat over the top of Stiles’ belly. “But this pup, our child, is a start to rebuilding that void, to creating our pack again from our own blood. That is so important to, not only myself as a man ready to become a father, but to the wolf in me, finally being put at ease to a degree to see my bloodline continued. Our child will carry the spirit of my mother, Laura and every other person that would have loved her.” He looked up to Stiles now, green eyes sad but bright at the same time. “That’s why I keep saying thank you then, you see. You’ve already done all this work, stressed yourself to impossible limits, and already protected her from people who would gladly see her dead. As someone who thought I’d never take a mate, never less expect a pup of my own, I can’t even express the adoration I feel every time I look at you.”

Stiles sniffed but didn’t cry, instead his hand going to softly rub his husband’s cheek with a small chuckle. “As much as everyone likes to say that this child is a blessing for the kingdom, they’re ours Derek. We had this child as a expression of our bond and love for each other, not for some silly demand for an heir. You don’t need to thank me. No matter what anyone likes to say, he or she is ours first and foremost.”

Derek shuffled and moved upwards to nuzzle at Stiles’ neck, placing soft kisses on his cheeks and lips. With a small wince, Stiles managed to turn his body onto his side, facing Derek as they laid there with a sigh of relief when the pressure was eased off his lower back. “She,” he whispered teasingly. “You called the pup a she a few times there. Imagining a little girl?”

Derek rolled his eyes but didn’t protest. “The same way you called the pup a boy too.”

“So a friendly little wager then!” Stiles said cheerfully. “We’ll see if I pop out a little blue or pink bundle. If I’m right, what will you give me?”

“How about the child,” Derek said dryly.

“I should hope so.” Stiles began to tug on Derek’s shirt with grabby hands. “Now, enough talk about little bean. I’m feeling pretty horny and it’s your job to fix that. _Properly_ this time.”

Now Derek just looked constipated. “Eloquent segue.”

Stiles huffed. “You were gone for the entire first portion of this pregnancy which meant a lot of sad time on my own with toys that weren’t nearly as good as the real thing. And now since you’ve been released from Deaton’s care, you’ve just been making your way around actually sticking it in me.”

Stiles mentally noted that a scandalized looking Derek was an entertaining form of Derek. It was true though, ever since Derek was back in tip top shape, now matter how he’d tried to urge the alpha to knot him the way his body had been craving for the past few months, Derek suddenly had a will of steel. No matter how determinedly Stiles would grope at his cock, Derek would always manage to maneuver so that before he knew it, Stiles was coming enthusiastically as Derek took him in his mouth while using his fingers to gently rub at his prostate. Afterwards Stiles was always to tired to do more than grumble unhappily while Derek chuckled. Last week, after waking up from a orgasm induced slumber, Stiles had stubbornly stood in front of Derek as he worked over his desk, arms crossed and throwing in a wobbly lip for good measure.

“It’s not that I don’t find you attractive like this Stiles,” Derek had said, pinching at the bridge of his nose like he couldn’t believe that this conversation was truly taking place. “Trust me, I’m going crazy every time I look at you like this, but I can’t. It’s just that your getting pretty far along. I wouldn’t want to do anything to hurt the pup just because we wanted to have a bit of fun.”

“Oh what?” Stiles scoffed. “Do you think that you’re going to end up hitting the pup with your dick if you thrust too hard?” The silence was all too telling and Stiles couldn’t help but start cackling at the idea. 

Derek just scowled at him. “Just leave it alone Stiles.”

Stiles in fact did not leave it alone, and instead dragged Derek to Deaton the next day for the singular question of if it was alright for them to have sex through his pregnancy. Deaton didn’t look fazed at the question while Derek looked ready to just completely melt through the floor. Deaton assured them that while nothing too vigorous should happen, but as long as Stiles was still feeling up for any sort of sexual activity, there would be no harm in the two of them having sex. 

Stiles was ready in that exact moment to hurry back upstairs and finally get what he had been waiting for, but as they left Derek made some vague excuses of work to be done and disappeared. 

Since then he’d been making himself scarce from their bedroom, coming back late in the evenings when Stiles was already half asleep or always offering to give Stiles massages to lull him into a similar state. 

Now Derek wasn’t getting away so easily. 

Stiles suddenly tightly fisted the material he had in his grasp, not letting Derek try to pull back with a sigh. “No. We’ve had this talk, I’ve been missing out for the past six months on sex, six months Derek, and I read that blood flow makes orgasms even better during pregnancy, so I swear to god if you don’t knot me and let me experience the best thing I will ever have, _so help me_ , I will become the worse pregnant mate you’ve ever heard of, and I know everyone’s been telling both of us their horror stories.”

Derek looked a bit stunned at his viciously hissed rant, still clearly torn. Stiles took things into his own hands. Moving as gracefully as he could with the extra weight throwing off his center of gravity, Stiles managed to sit and settle himself on top of Derek. The alpha lightly glared up at him, hands settling on the omega’s hips and Stiles was under no illusions that Derek couldn’t simply throw him off and back onto the mattress with a flick of his hand, but he saw the fact that Derek hadn’t already done so as a good sign. 

“You’re my mate, my alpha and my husband,” Stiles said, letting a whine slip through his voice as he pouted. His night shirt had loosely gathered on his hips at their movement, and in a smooth movement Stiles grabbed the hem to pull it over his head and leave him naked. Biting down any self doubts that whispered from the back of his mind any time he remotely exposed his new body to Derek, he grabbed Derek’s hands from his hips and repositioned them again over his stomach, arching his back slightly to make the bulge even more pronounced than it already was. Stiles wasn’t going to shy away from dirty tactics to get what he wanted. “You are supposed to take care of me, which you’ve been doing so well. You’ve made me so happy, you’ve given me a beautiful home, you’ve kept me safe and now you’ve given us a beautiful pup. Right here, they’re growing, proof of our bond, our mating. So take care of me now, the way I know your instincts are screaming at you to. Let me feel satisfied, breed me even as our child already grows.”

Stiles almost twitched at using the term _breeding_ , he’d always found it to be awkward, a bit degrading and just silly, but it clearly didn’t have the same effect on Derek. By the end of Stiles’ breathy speech Derek’s face had twisted up and his hands tightened slightly over Stiles’ belly. Stiles almost smirked when he could feel the growing hardness as he straddled over Derek’s lap, seamlessly grinding down on it. 

Clearly dirty tactics worked.

“God help me,” Derek groaned surging to sit up with his arm wrapped around Stiles’ waist to keep him from falling over. Stiles tipped his head back with a grin as Derek began kissing a lightly biting along his neck, gasping when Derek left a particular sharp nip over his mating bite. Excited, slick began to slip from his hole, the scent of himself sharp in the room and Derek let out a small growl, working his way to Stiles’ face.

“You’re an awful thing,” he murmured against Stiles’ lips when Stiles let out a small laugh. “Doing this to your poor husband.”

“My poor husband seems to be more than accommodating.” He ground down on Derek extra hard to prove his point.

They spent the next few minutes kissing very enthusiastically, groping and dry humping each other like excited teenagers before their bonding but soon they grew bored of it. Derek ripped their lips apart long enough for him to pull his shirt over his head and then used one arm to hold his weight so he could lift his hips off the mattress when Stiles’ fingers clumsily loosened the drawstrings of his pants, letting the omega push them down and off his legs. 

Finally they were both naked and Stiles could enjoy the sensation of Derek warm skin, lightly dusted with dark hair, against his own, especially the sensitive, taunt skin of his stomach. Stiles tried to roll them over, to pull Derek on top of him, but the alpha grabbed his hips and kept him from moving, shaking his head.

“Stay,” he said, sounding breathless as he looked at Stiles with dark, lust filled eyes. “When you look like this, I don’t know if I could hold back once we get started. Just—stay.”

Stiles bit his lip and nodded, his head tipping back with a gasp when one of Derek’s hands let go of his hip to instead slide around to his hole, one finger gently pushing in with no resistance thanks to the slick. “Oh god Derek,” he moaned fingers curling on his chest in a way that was probably painful for his husband, but Derek didn’t show any indication of pain. Instead after a few preliminary thrusts of his finger, the alpha just added a second, scissoring them to hurry along the stretching, soon adding a third along. Stiles couldn’t do much more then endure the overwhelming sensation, nails leaving red welts over Derek’s skin and a high pitched whimper leaving his throat.

Derek was no so similarly impaired. As his fingers carefully stretched out his husband, his mouth was moving against Stiles neck, softly but clearly whispering encouragements and praise for the human. “—I couldn’t have asked for a better mate. Such a smart, strong beautiful mate. And now, looking like this, I just want to keep you in here, just you, myself and our pup forever. I never want you to leave my side again.”

Stiles just tipped his head down, grasping Derek’s hair to pull his head up for a kiss, hungry and wet. Stiles’ body gave a little jolt when Derek was finally satisfied and pulled his fingers out, feeling empty at the loss. He reached down between his legs to where Derek’s own erection had been sitting beneath him, momentarily ignored. It was burning hot and solid in Stiles’ palm, and using the precum that had been pearling at the tip, he gave it a few jacks, smiling against Derek’s lips when he felt the king’s hips with small, involuntary buckles.

“Are you ready?” He lined up Derek’s cock to his hole, and at feeling Derek nod, he let his thighs finally relax and sank down, taking it all in until he bottomed out. 

They both stilled, groaning in unison, before Stiles gently began to lift himself up again. Of course, Stiles’ had bottomed from the top before, but like this, with Derek sitting up with him, every small thrust down or snap of Derek’s hips was hitting his prostate dead on every time. 

As they fucked, Stiles duly noticed that Derek’s left hand had never left his stomach, still of the side of his belly as the largest part of the bump, along with his swollen dick, rubbed against those rock solid abs with every moment. 

No matter how much Derek had reassured him that he loved Stiles and was aroused by the sight of him filled with their pup, Stiles had always had his doubts, but that hand finally broke them. Derek noticed how teary Stiles was becoming when he let out a loud sniff, trying to swallow down any tears and the king suddenly looked very scared, thrusts up immediately stopping. “Stiles wha—“

Stiles didn’t let him finish his question, pulling him for another powerful, but quick kiss. “I love you so much Derek,” he said, smiling. “I say that a lot but I really do.”

The alpha let out a relieved sigh and then smiled back. “And I love you, don’t doubt that.”

With the confirmations buzzing around in head, feeling light and bright, Stiles began to move again, hips rocking back and forth as he ground down. Derek let out a hiss and couldn’t control his little hard thrusts, kissing Stiles like his life depended on it. 

As they went on, their movements became more and more jerky and desperate, soft gasps, moans and dirty words escaping from both of them. Derek’s knot pressed against Stiles’ rim, a grunt from Derek before it pushed and slipped past the tight ring of muscles. It didn’t take much more than that, the feeling the fullness and the way that his nerves were just being abused in the best way possible, before his cock exploded between them, painting his belly and Derek’s stomach in white spunk.

Derek was only able to hold him up, giving a few more thrusts before an idea hazily came to Stiles’ mind. He could tell Derek was so close by the hitch in his breath and the way he we barely pulling out with his thrusts, even with the knot, and Stiles just pulled his head back and repaid the favor Derek constantly bestowed on him by biting down on the mating bite on the alpha’s neck.

The response was immediate with the guttural howl Derek gave, hips spamming as it felt like the knot exploded, painting the inside of Stiles with sperm. Stiles let go, tasting a bit of metallic cooper from where he’d bit down a little too hard. He smiled at the half-lidded look Derek gave him, licking his lips before pressing a startlingly innocent kiss against his still cumming  husband. 

Derek has enough sense to gently ease them down to that he was laying flat on his back again, Stiles curled up on his chest as the knot held them together. Their skin was flushed and slick, but the sweat was already making Stiles a bit chill and Derek seemed to sense that, pulling up the covers to trap them and the heat beneath it. 

“Was that as good as you were expecting it to be?” Derek had one dark brow lazily arched up, hand tracing patterns underneath the quilt across Stiles’ stomach. Stiles wrinkled his nose when that hand slowly began moving through the cum there, but he brushed if off as another weird, possessive thing that Derek was dealing with.

So he just smiled, nestling his head beneath his alpha’s chin and surpassing a yawn. “So much better.”

 

—————————————————————

 

Not all of pregnancy remained so easily. 

As time passed closer and closer to his due date, and their pup grew impossibly larger and more violent, Stiles’ patience and socially grew shorter and shorter. 

One minute he’s gleefully discussing Kira’s plans for her mating ceremony to Scott after the beta had stuttered his way through formally requesting her hand, even though after her heat spent with him it was as good as official, and the next moment he was seething with rage and had the gale to throw a letter opener at Derek as hard as he could. The minute the blade left his hand he’s regretted it, and his arm had never actually been that good and the letter opener had missed Derek’s head by a good few inches without him even ducking, but Stiles was still a blubbering mess after, having to be consoled by a confused Derek.

The man hadn’t even done more than cheerfully comment on how large Stiles was at that point. 

As much as Deaton and Derek both tried to push the idea of Stiles simply resting and taking it easy, Stiles fought them tooth and nail to still be up to do whatever it was he wanted.

Now he sat beside Derek in his rightful place as the king consort, though it had been rather unkingly the way he’d struggled for a moment to lower himself down into his seat, belly first as he’d slowly eased himself back and down. 

It was the same old, like every other time he or Derek held court; a few petty squabbles between neighbors and a greater deal of small but important issues Derek calmly and carefully situated. To both their surprise, Allison Argent was the last person announced to the court, Lydia right by her side.

She gave both of them a respectful nod of her head before pulling a parchment from her belt, tapping it on her hand. “I’ve remained here in your home for a great deal of months now, Your Grace, as both your welcomed guest, detained prisoner, and something between. I think i’ve done my part to reassure you that I am not your foe but an ally, and perhaps instilled a measure of trust in you.”

Derek shifted in his seat, and Stiles carefully looked between both the alphas. He tried to make contact with his older friend, but her eyes were glued to her lover’s face. “Lady Argent,” Derek said formally, just as their current roles demanded. “I assume that you’re not here just to recount your time here for the memories.”

Allison shook her head. “I’d like to be allowed to travel back home. That is my request..” The hall around them broke out in murmurs but with a sharp, sweeping gaze from Derek they all settled down. The princess didn’t even pay any of them any mind, instead steadily looking at the king. “You know the main aggressors in the war are my grandfather and aunt. My father is the elder child and of course in line for the throne. He doesn’t agree with the war continuing on at the expense of our people, and is willing to sign to the treaty we’d been in the process of making before the full moon massacre.”

She held out the letter she’d been holding onto, looking expectantly at Erica, acting as court guard, as the blonde werewolf stepped forward to take it and pass the letter on to Derek. Stiles caught a flash of Chris Argent’s official seal, already broken, as Derek held the letter and opened it to read. 

Allison continued on as Derek’s eyes scanned over the message inside. “My father is finally succumbing to his old age and lays in his death bed as we speak, but he’s always been a stubborn man. He’ll try to hold off death as long as possible and he’s always harbored disappointment in my father and I for not supporting the cause was wholeheartedly as Kate. A large portion of our country would also much rather see my aunt on the throne too, so we worry that there might be some groups out conspiring to either usurp my father and give his place on the throne to Kate, or outright kill him to clear the way for her.” The idea clearly disturbed Allison, deep frown lines forming in her cheeks and Stiles could sympathize. To imagine his own father such a precarious position, hanging by a threat surrounded by snakes ready to snap at him with poison tipped fangs. 

Derek was a little less sure, judging by the pinched look to his face. “You understand the gravity of the request you ask.” His fingers drummed against the armrest of the throne. “You may not have been complicit in your aunt and grandfather’s planned attacks on my people, but sending you back to them leaves us with no incentive for them not to do worse than they already have.”

“I doubt my residence here would deter them, as proven by the full moon night.”

There was silence in the room for a moment, and Derek wouldn’t even meet Stiles’ eyes, instead just staring down at his own lap in thought, The atmosphere felt breathless, everyone watching between them on pins and needles, ready for the verdict. Finally Derek lifted his head. face set and eyes steely. 

“We’ll arrange for save passage for you and your men home, under our protection.”

The room erupted until a chaotic mess. Surprised and outraged yells burst out from the courtiers  in the room, the guards all struggling to keep everyone under control and subdue the crowd. Allison and Lydia both looked pleased, turning to each other with smothered smiles as Lydia squeezed the alpha’s arm with both hands. 

Order was restored quickly when Derek surged up from the throne, halting all noise and movement with one loud deafening roar and brightly glowing crimson eyes. Even Stiles was shocked at the display of dominate, hand going to his belly when their child started doing summersaults in response to their father. 

“My order is final, and any resistance to my decree shall be a swift pathway to the dungeons. I am the king, and it would do you all good to remember that. The princess goes home and perhaps soon we can finally bring this war to an end.” His voice was so commanding, so loud and crisp, that it was impossible to deny his words. “Now, out, everyone. Court is adjourned.”

Everyone slowly trickled out, some still looking rather displeased, while Allison and Lydia both remained standing before their thrones. Stiles struggled to stand for a moment, cursing the heavy ball of weight throwing him off, but he managed on his own, shrugging away the hand Derek sweetly offered. Down the few steps, he pulled Lydia aside as Allison discussed over the details with Derek of her return home. 

“You’re going with her, aren’t you?” Stiles didn’t find himself feeling disappointed the way he thought he would have felt, but rather more resigned as if he’d been expected it.

Lydia didn’t deny it, only nodding her head. “If our roles were reversed and Derek was in Allison’s position, you can’t tell me that you wouldn’t want to go and be will him? If she leaves now with me behind, who knows the next time I’ll see her.”

“Derek and I didn’t even like each other at first,” Stile grouched but he knew it wasn’t the point. He slipped his hand in hers, reveling in the feeling of her soft skin. “If you feel like you really want to do this Lydia, I’m not going to stop you, but remember, it wouldn’t be safe when you leave with her. Their country is going to be even more of a hell zone than Beacon Hills.”

She just took a deep breath, lifting her chin. Then she simply shrugged and said, “I don’t care.”

Stiles couldn’t help but smile, squeezing her hand in his. “That’s what love is, I guess.” There was no doubt in his mind that he would follow Derek right onto that battlefield, if the alpha wouldn’t just sling him right over his shoulder and drag him back home. “Are you two going to finally make it official any time soon? I better be invited as an honored guest at that mating ceremony.”

Lydia gave a small laugh. “I think we’ve both decided to wait until this whole war is wrapped and over with. We’d like to enjoy our bond and mating once we can.” She paused for a minute, white teeth biting down on a pink lower lip. “Also I’ve got something to figure our and settle for myself first.”

“The voices?” There was no question as to what she could have been referring too. In the months since her little screaming episode, Lydia had finally confessed the whole matter of her hallucinations and voices whispering in her head of the death that was brought during the full moon. The pair of them had poured over the few books on supernatural in the Hale library as she refused to tell Deaton or any others about her concerns, always setting Stiles with a bone chilling glare anytime he tried to bring it up. 

“There might be someone who can tell me more about who, or what, has been causing all this. I’ll be able to pay them a visit once I go with Allison.”

“Good luck then.” Lydia nodded and Stiles couldn’t help but sweep her into a hug, slightly awkward with his belly between them, but still they wrapped their arms around around each other and just held on for a moment.

Stiles had had enough of goodbyes in his life; his mother, his father, Melissa and all his other friends back home. Lydia understood that and squeezed him tighter, burrowing her face between his shoulder and his neck. This was not a goodbye. It was an ‘until next time’.

When they finally pulled apart, Allison and Derek were standing patiently behind them, a soft look in both their eyes as they looked at their partners. 

“Don’t worry,” Allison spoke with a small smile to Stiles as Lydia wrapped her arm around her waist. “I’ll take good care of her, on my life.”

“Good.” Stiles’ voice was sturdy. “She deserves it.”

 

—————————————————————

 

It occurred to Stiles that it had been nearly eight months since he last left the castle walls. Every stone wall felt more and more like a padded prison each day and the itching feeling beneath his skin just grew. He needed to go outside beyond the gardens.

They had been easily swayed to his demands to go visit to the village for the day. Deaton had been worried about overexerting himself, Scott and Kira had been the travel there and back, and Cora was very vocal about her concerns that he’d gone stupid and forgotten about the fact that Kate was still very alive and still very invested in killing him.

Most surprisingly, Stiles’ only ally in his argument was Derek. 

His husband sat silently beside him on the couch of the sitting room while the others crowded around him and tried to convince Stiles to leave his trip out for after the birth of the pup and Stiles almost forgot he was there when the alpha didn’t first burst with objections when Stiles first brought up the idea like he though he would. When he finally spoke, it was quiet but commanding, silencing everyone.

“Stiles has done more than his part to prove his worth and resilience in his time since moving too Beacon Hill, and Kate has done more than enough on her part to prove that if she really wants to get the Stiles, the castle walls aren’t enough to keep her reach out.” He turned to Stiles, his words leaving no room for compromise. “We’ll be taking an entourage of guards with us, and Stiles with stay with me and not stray more than an arms reach from me at any time. It’ll just be for the afternoon, two hours, then we head straight back here. Agreed?”

Stiles nodded as enthusiastically as he could, a smile so wide it strained his cheeks. “Yes! Thank you!”

It had just felt so nice to walk past the front doors, knowing that he was finally taking leave away from the royal grounds. He let Kira fuss over him that morning, though, when she went to brush his hair for the third time he caught her wrists and laughingly suggested that he was ready to go. She’d sheepishly agreed and the two of them heading out to go. 

Scott obviously led the handful of guards escorting them, and Stiles spied the two of them sharing a quick kiss before both of them returned to their stations, blushing more for it. For once, Derek took the carriage with him and Kira, and Stiles happily relaxed against his arm, listening as the king pointed out various sights or spots out through the window as they passed. 

It took roughly half an hour for them to arrive to the nearest village to the castle and Stiles was excited by what he took in as he stepped down from the carriage. They’d stopped in the main square, set up as a marketplace, and bright colors, loud noises and calls, and bustling people greeted Stiles, the citizens shocked by the sight of their kings’ relatively unannounced. 

Stiles spent most of the two hours just dragging Derek around by the arm as more and more things caught his eyes. Most of the merchants kept on trying to give him fine gifts for free and Stiles kept trying to refuse, to slip coins in their palms as payment. Soon Derek was stuck with random trinkets balanced beneath his arm as Stiles still wandered in front of him, happily chewing the last of a warm cinnamon biscuit that a baker just pulled from oven before selling it to him. 

This stall was simple, a bright faced your girl with an alluring beauty mark beneath her left eye standing behind it, but it only worked to emphasize the beautiful cloths she had laid out on the wooden table. She gave a small curtsy when they stopped before her, Stiles’ eyes instantly drawn to the fabrics she had out. 

“These are absolutely beautiful,” he said, eyeing the bright dyed fabrics and detailed patterns sown in. 

She beamed. “Thank you, Your Grace. My grandmother taught me to make each cloth from scratch myself. I’m also a musician, but this helps provide for food much easier.”

“You’re human.” No one could have missed the suspicious eye that Derek gave her, but honestly he’d been glaring within five feet of them the entire afternoon

“Yes, and I’ve lived in Beacon Hills ever since I was a little girl,” She said, staring right back at Derek with enough backbone that Stiles wanted to applaud her. “This is my home and I’m proud to live here.”

Derek seemed mostly mollified by that, likely from the strong attitude more than anything.

Stiles picked up a quilt, enjoying the soft cotton. “I’ve been _apparently_ nesting lately, and these things would be such lovely additions to our rooms.” 

“Actually, I think I have something that might suit your needs more, if you don’t mind me imposing.” At Stiles’ encouraging gesture, she sifted through the fabrics before pulling out a folded square and handed it to him with a smile. 

It was magnificent, unfurling in Stiles’ hands. It wasn’t too big, clearly made to be a infant’s blanket, and made to be a pale blueish purple color, with shining silver suns carefully stitched in all along it. Stiles barely resisted the urge to rub the cloth against his cheek, marveling in how silken it felt.

“This is perfect,” he turned to Derek, letting his husband touch the blanket himself. 

Derek looked down at the blanket so gingerly that Stiles could see that he was picturing a little pup swaddled up in it, just as he was. “How much for it?”

Paige shook her head fervently and Stiles barely held back a sigh. “It’s my honor to just know that you would wrapped your heir in my own work.”

“This better than any other child’s blanket I’ve seen and you clearly had to work hard over it. It would be our honor to use this for our child be begin with. so we can’t just take it for free. It must have cost you a fortune to make.”

From the way her jaw was set, it was clear that the girl was going to stick to her principle.

Stiles hated it and he knew that Derek did too, the concept that their people would give them the goods and services that they slaved over and spent most of their coins to maintain so freely, when the royal couple clearly had enough gold to pay the price and double. 

Without any indication, Derek used his free hand and quickly reached out and over the stall table to drop a hand full of coins into the pocket of her apron. Neither Stiles or the girl were even able to realize what he’d done until he’d pulled back, looking calm and collected, and the gold pieces clinked together as they settled in her pocket. Stiles knew it was at least twice the amount she’d be able to charge for the blanket in a small village like this.

As if finally realizing that both the men were not so easy going to be persuaded to back down and take their money back, she finally just relaxed, pressing her lips together in a sweet smile. “Thank you, Your Graces.” 

Stiles just smiled back and Derek looked the least growly that he had all day. “You’re talents are far more than worthy, Miss—“

“Paige,” She said brightly. “My name is Paige.”

 

—————————————————————

 

Stiles was just growing more and more anxious as time grew closer for him to give birth. 

There was still at a little over a month left before Deaton approximated he should be go into labor but Stiles was still heavily stressing. The final stretch of the pup’s growth had occurred and Stiles felt uncomfortable, like his body was alien to himself. 

Derek tried his best to appease him, but often Stiles just wanted to rest in their bed and wait for time to past. Sometimes he would wake up for a particularly restful nap to find Derek sitting beside him, the black lines crawling up his arms and his discomfort shallowly showing on his face as he took Stiles’ dull pain. 

The worst part of it all was the false labor pains that started. 

The first time it happened was truly awful, he’d jolted up at the squeezing sensation and Derek had absolutely panicked, rushing Stiles in his arms down to Deaton. who after a short examination just explained the practice contractions his body was going through and sent them back up to wait them out for the next ten minutes before it faded away. 

Internally, Stiles knew that it wasn’t just the thought of giving birth itself that was giving him frayed nerves. It was the fact that not soon after that there’d be a tiny human-werewolf being that would rely solely on him, that he would have his own child to coddle and protect from the rest of the world that might want to hurt him or her. 

That he and Derek would finally get to gently hold their pup in their arms. 

A lovely nursery was all set for the child, crib complete with the blue blanket laid out and waiting. Stiles had been thrown by the fact that the nursery wasn’t as close to their own chamber than he would have thought. Instead, the nursery was far down the hall in the end room, spacious and bright with the sunlight allowed in by all three outward walls with stained glass windows in the soft white walls. After Derek first reassured a frantic Stiles that no one would be able to break through the reinforced glass, never mind needing first to scale up the castle wall to even get to the window, he explained why he was so insistent on having their child stay in the nursery. 

It was close enough that they would be able to hear the pup crying, Derek especially, but a nurse would be assigned to watch over the pup at night and unless something dire happened, the two of them wouldn’t be particularly bothered. But Derek’s eyes got a far away look when he added how all the Hale family had passed through the nursery, and that while the room had been badly damaged by the fire, he and others had slaved over fixing it; scrubbing at the walls to get rid of the scorch marks until their fingers bled and reconstructing the windows that had originally blown out in the heat. 

Stiles had conceded only after Derek reminded him that the child would remain in the bassinet in their chambers for, at least, their first few months. 

But now Stiles was left at the awkward position of both wanting his child just _out_ of his body and also never ready for them to come out into the world.

The choice wasn’t very much up to him. 

Deaton was sure they’d have another few weeks to come to terms with the inevitable, so Stiles ignored it at first, just how he’d ignored the symptoms first pointing out the fact that he was pregnant. 

His back normally ached, no surprise there, but the entire day there was a dull pain on top of that near the base of his spine and his stomach began to feel like it was tightening further. All that just lead to a more irritable Stiles, grumbling through the day and just about ready to snap at anyone for the smallest reason.

It wasn’t until dinner, that he thankfully took in bed after not feeling up to the fanfare of the whole family, that the cramps began to start. Stiles groaned and gritted his teeth, settling back into the pillows uncomfortably. Derek finally joined him once enough time had passed for him to make his excuses to his family and head up, looking concerned at the way he found Stiles squeezing his eyes shut and breath rushing harshly out his nose. 

“Stiles?” He quickly rushed to the side of the bed, hand sliding under the omega to rest on his back and quickly take the pain. 

Stiles finally took a deep breath clear from the cramping and managed a wobbling smile. “I’m getting real sick of these practice contractions, you know?”

Derek could only look as empathetic as possible, though the slight squinting around his eyes betrayed how painful the pain actually was. “Do you need anything?”

“No, no,” Stiles shook his head. “I’d really rather just get to sleep this off at this point.”

“Then I’ll wait until you fall asleep.”

And Derek did just that, helping Stiles shuffle into a more comforting position, and then continuing to take his pain until Stiles managed to drift off. However, it just couldn’t last long and Stiles kept waking up through the night, shifting and whining softly in pain that just hadn’t stopped, yet at the same time really not wanting to wake up Derek, who peacefully slept beside him.

At some point in what had to be the early morning Stiles just couldn’t take ti any more. The dull sensation decidedly grew more sharp, almost like a stabbing feeling, on top of mounting pressure. Stiles’ breath was coming quicker and shorter as he struggled to push himself up into a more upright position when there was a a sort of popping sensation and suddenly the bottom of his night shirt and the sheet below him were warmly wet.

“Oh my god,” Stiles’ whimpered, finally realizing that the pain was no false contractions, but instead true labor. “Derek. Derek!” He began blindly reaching for his husband, smacking down when he felt flesh as he began to panic. 

Derek shot up, dazed and very confused from the assault and his mate’s distressed scent, sharp teeth and claws shooting out in instinct. It took him a second to realize that the faintly lit room was empty save for the two of them and then another to take in Stiles’ pale, pained expression. “What’s going on?”

The contraction finally faded down down a duller pain again and Stiles sucked in a breath, one hand curled over his stomach and the other fisted in the bedsheets. “I think my water just broke and I’ve been having contractions. I’m in labor.”

Derek’s eyes grew as wide a saucers. “But the pup shouldn’t be due for a few more weeks.”

“Then tell that to your child,” Stiles gritted out. “Go get Deaton!”

Derek scrambled out of bed and wrenched open the door while Stiles just tried to relax in the remaining time until his next contraction, eyes closed and breathing as deeply as he could. 

Despite whatever crack of dawn hour it actually was, servants were bustling in, lighting candles to brighten the room and carrying linens in their arms, helping Stiles move gingerly so they could strip the soiled sheet beneath him and change him into a clean night shirt. 

A few moments later Kira stumbled in, looking cheery and excited despite the multiple yawns that displayed how tired she truly was. When the next contraction hit she rubbed his back soothingly, her upbeat tone somehow helping him through it. 

Near the end of that contraction, Derek finally returned with a polished looking Deaton and the local midwife assistant behind him. Without skipping a beat, the healer pulled the nightgown up above Stiles’ stomach, feeling for the movement and hardness as Stiles panted. “Don’t you ever sleep?”

Deaton just gave Stiles a small chuckle and stepped back, letting him pull a thin cotton sheet over his legs. “Stiles was correct. He’s in the middle of labor, but he still has a long while to go.”

Stiles groaned loudly and he didn’t miss Kira trying to suppress a laugh at his theatrics. 

Deaton continued. “The pup had moved to the correct position, lowered and head down. It’s just a matter of waiting at this point until you’ve reached the point to push.”

“But it hurts! Isn’t there anything I can take to help it?”

“Labor tends to do that,” Deaton said, not unkindly. “As much as I’m sure that Derek and Scott would leap to take your pain from you, it’s a integral part of the process. We need you to be in tune with your body, to feel how the contractions are progressing or in the case of anything going wrong.”

At the mention of complications Derek let out a wounded noise. Stiles reached for him and Derek quickly took his outstretched hand, squeezing tightly. “Then can we go anything to try to help the process along?”

Deaton thought for a moment. “If you can stand it, walking around will help move thing along. Short distances only and stop as soon as the pain gets too much. Derek can help by massaging you chest. It helps release a hormone that helps the labor progress. But I stress above anything that you rest as well. Pushing the child out will take a lot of effort.”

Tight lipped, Stiles nodded and then tried to move himself out of bed, Kira and Derek both rushing to help him. They began pacing around the room, Stiles just praying that the labor would be short.

His prayer, of course, was ignored. 

Five hours later, the room lit up now by the bright morning sunlight, Stiles was still sweating through near constant contraction, a wail tearing through his sore throat.

He’d spent the time alternating between slowly walking around the room, trying to nap between the contractions, and kneeling on the bed, leaning on his arms and trying to making through the swells of pain after the midwife told him that the position might help ease him through it. Derek had been kicked out about two hours before when Stiles had just snapped when the alpha tried to breath through the contraction with him, cursing and yelling him until Deaton calmly suggested that already agitated Derek take a break for the moment, until Stiles calmed down. Kira remained vigilant at his side, wiping at his brow with a cooled cloth and whispering encouragements in his ear, and Scott had tried to visit at some point, but had found that whole thing a bit too overwhelming and quickly left pale faced. 

Stiles felt like he was just going to be ripped apart, the burning pain from between his legs the only thing combating the pain from his stomach. He’d lost all concern for shame at that point, his legs bent and spread with the nightshirt up around his hips as Deaton examined him once again for what felt like the millionth time. 

The difference was, Deaton called this time for the midwife and selected servants present to prepare the warm water and clean cloths and then turned back to Stiles with what was probably supposed to be a encouraging smile. “Alright Stiles, you’re fully dilated and ready to push on the next contractions.”

Panic overtook Stiles, tightening in his chest, and he began whining, shaking his head. “No, no, I can’t do this!” He was crying now, tears making tracks in the sweat already dampening his face. “I want— I want Derek. Where’s Derek?”

He barely finished uttering the sentence when the door flew open and Derek was back at his side. Even through the pain, Stiles couldn’t help but give a hiccuping laugh at the image of Derek just pacing outside the door, waiting for the chance to get back in. Derek pressed there foreheads together and Stiles strained through another contraction but couldn’t bring himself to push.

“I’m scared,” he said shakily. “I can’t do this, Derek, I just can’t.”

“You can.” There was no room for argument in Derek’s tone, his eyes bright and open. “You’re strong, and you know you are. So just get through this and you can do anything.”

Taking in big gasping breath, Stiles didn’t break their eye contact, nodding clumsily along with him. Feeling the next build of pressure coming, Stiles squeezed both Derek and Kira’s hands in his but just as he prepared to push an idea jolted him out of it and he gasped. Both the alpha and other omega jumped, looking startled and Deaton just sighed from where he was stationed, ready, at the foot of the bed. 

“We didn’t decide on a name Derek,” he grunted out through the pain. “How the fuck did we not pick a name?”

Derek visibly relaxed and his face twitched in the way that said that he was just refraining from rolling his eyes. “It’s alright Stiles. Just push and then we can name her.”

“Him,” Stiles couldn’t help but add. 

But finally he settled into the pillows propping him up and finally bore down on next contraction. He squeezed those hands as hard as possible, torso curving down as he cried out. He pushed down as hard as possible, pushing against the pressure in his belly before just collapsing back into the wall of pillows. 

It was all just so painful and stretched out. It seemed like ages was spent just lying there, just exerting, sobbing and screaming. The entire time Derek and Kira were both insistent by his side, rubbing and talking in hushed, soothing tones. 

Finally the burning pain had shifted right down to his opening, feeling like it was slowly tearing him open. 

“The child’s crowning,” Deaton called out. “Just a push or two more and you’ll get to meet your pup.”

Derek excitedly pressed a kiss to Stiles’ flushed forehead, his scent enveloping the tired omega. “Almost there.”

Steeling himself for the final stretch, Stiles gave it all the energy he had, feeling the pressure finally suddenly ease at the same time as a squelching sound. Stiles collapsed back but managed just enough to lift his head to try to glimpse at his child.

The midwife was bustling around Deaton as the man checked over the infant, unfortunately blocking his view, but a few seconds later a loud cry pierced the air and Stiles was ready to cry along with it. 

“Well boys,” Deaton said, finally sounding pleased. He turned with the squirming pup in his hands for the parents to see, a pink and pudgy thing. “A little princess it is.”

Derek let out the smallest sound as the healer laid their daughter bare on Stiles’ chest, exposed by the loose neckline of his nightgown, but Stiles couldn’t bring himself to look away from her. 

She was absolutely perfect.

A full head of thick dark hair and set of brows already to rival Derek’s own, she was certainly the alpha’s child, but her upturned nose and bow shaped pursed lips were all Stiles’. A trembling hand came to gently run over her back and Stiles marveled in how smooth and soft her skin was.

“She’s beautiful.” Derek bent close over the two of them, as equally captivated by his pup. The moment she was laid on Stiles’ chest she’d calmed down, just squirming uselessly and making soft mewling sounds. 

Stiles just spoke softly, scared of startling her. “Did you doubt she’d be anything but?” 

They only watched their little girl lay there on her stomach, in their own small little bubble. Hands suddenly breached their awareness and they both reacted, Stiles’ curled around his pup, trying to shield her, while Derek covered them both with his body, teeth out and eyes glowing as he viciously growled. It just took the two of them a second to blink and realize it had just been Kira, with one of the small white cloths to cover the girl like a blanket. She clearly saw the error in approaching the newborn and her parents, blood drained from her face but an apologetic express on her features.

When the little one let out another shrill cry, both men suddenly unfurled from around each other. Stiles let out an awkward little laugh and rubbed his daughter’s back with the pads of his fingers to try to sooth her. “I’m sorry Kira. Just instinct.”

“No, my fault,” Kira still smiled at them and held out the cloth while still remaining a good distance. Derek took it, but instead of just covering the child, he rubbed the cloth against his neck first, letting his scent soak through.

With their attention no longer completely taken up by their daughter, the midwife took the opportunity to step forward. Quickly and efficiently, she showed Stiles the proper way to hold and place his daughter on his chest for her to feed. It took a few tries before she properly latched, and when she did Stiles winced when she bit down with her gums, but she was feeding and that was all he cared about. He barely even noticed Deaton delivering the afterbirth and checking Stiles out. 

Everything was cleaned up around them, the bloodied and soiled sheet carried out, the bassinet carried in and everyone left the three of them to enjoy their time together alone momentarily. The only noise for a moment was the sound of their daughter suckling at Stiles’ chest as the alpha and omega gazed down at her. 

“So you were right then,” Stiles said, finally looking up at Derek. “A little girl. A greedy one at that.”

Derek chuckled and smoothed back her hair, damp from the little wash Deaton had given her to clean off all the gunk. “Do you have a name in mind?”

“Well, I don’t think you’d be into officially calling her Little Bean.” The deadpan look Derek gave him confirmed that, so he continued. “Talia, or Laura or Claudia came to mind.”

Derek considered it for a moment before shaking his head, and Stiles strangely felt relieved. “No, those names belonged to women that we cared for, and they’ll have their own legacy.”

They fell silent again for a moment and their daughter finally pulled off of Stiles’ nipple, satisfied. She opened her eyes, bleary, glazed over and blue like any other newborn, but she still looked straight up at Stiles, who felt his heart melting over with the amount of love he could just pour out for her. 

“How about Isabelle?” He didn’t know where the name came from, but it sprang to his tongue and just felt right. She made a cooing sound as if an unintentional agreement. 

Derek smiled, and leaned forward to give him a small chaste kiss before bending his head down to place one on his daughter’s head. “Isabelle Hale.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo, it's a baby girl! I hope you all are as happy as they are with little Isabelle!  
> Thank you for all your kudos! And feel free to leave comments as well!!
> 
> Also, I'm so silly because I still have quite a bit left in this story but I'm already planning out the next fic. A Sterek Outlander!AU if you will. Hope you guys would be interested!


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the long delay!  
> Uni was just kicking my ass for a little bit, but here I managed to get a little something out!

Everything came second to Isabelle now. 

The little pup was the only think her fathers’ could focus on, completely enraptured by every jerky movement of her chubby limbs, every squeal that come from her mouth, and the way her chest slowly rose and fell as she slept peacefully in the bassinet beside their bed. They were so engrossed that they almost didn’t even notice how tired they were after a few days of her waking up every two hours with a piercing cry. 

Derek would quickly slide from the bed to pick up his pup, talking softly to her red, screwed up face as she screamed before he gently placed her into Stiles’ waiting arms to nurse, or robotically went through the movements to change her. Everyone, including Stiles himself, was a stunned when Derek had insisted that the midwife taught him how to bathe, change and just care for his daughter in general.

The task of caring for the child was usually left to the omega or a nursemaid, the alpha freed from any responsibility of the child’s rearing until they were old enough to begin lessons and training. Of course Stiles knew that Derek would be wholly involved in their pup’s life and wellbeing from the moment she left his womb, but he wasn’t quite expecting the king to be so hands on.

Not that he was complaining. Stiles still wasn’t sure how Derek could handle what Isabelle was putting out with that super nose of his. 

The pain of giving birth didn’t pass easily. Stiles still bled thinly afterwards, his abdominal muscles felt stretched and sore, and there was a fluttering cramping going on that was driving Stiles insane. Deaton ordered him to two weeks of bedrest, to which Stiles complained and argued against until Derek flashed his eyes and used the excuse of getting to spend all his time with their daughter as a way of make Stiles lower down to a simple grumble.

He couldn’t drink the milk of the poppy since he was nursing, so Stiles had to distract himself whenever Isabelle was asleep, spending his time reading, writing letters to his father and begrudgingly sleeping. Kira’s job had shifted from helping Stiles dress and get ready to keeping him company and getting up to pick up Isabelle when she woke up from her sleep crying. Derek tried to cheer him up whenever he could be spared from the duties of a king, telling him in vivid details about the events that had taken place that day at court while happily taking Stiles’ discomfort. 

That evening Derek walked in to see Stiles resting on his side, Isabelle laying on her back and tucked right against his front, as he cooed down at her, letting her tiny hands grasp at his fingers. Derek quickly slid behind Stiles, looking down at her over his husband’s shoulder and chuckling at her pleased gurgle. 

“She’s a strong little pup,” he said, sounding proud when her fingers squeezed around Stiles’ index finger. 

Stiles hummed in agreement, turning his head to kiss Derek’s cheek before giving his full attention back to their daughter. She was swaddled in the blanket they’re bought from Paige, with the top loosened to free her arms to play. Against even her sensitive skin, the soft warmth of it seemed to sooth her and Stiles couldn’t believe how simply beautiful she looked, wrapped in the pale blue hue. “Little Belle’s been missing her daddy all day.”

Derek spared him a dry look at the nickname — which one, Stiles wasn’t sure— as he lifted himself up to a sitting position. Reaching over Stiles, he gingerly lifted her up, large hand supporting her tiny head, and cradled her against his chest.

“And I’ve missed her,” he said, voice considerably softened as he smiled down at his daughter. She just made a little snuffing sound and her legs kicked out. Derek lightly bounced her and turned his attentions to Stiles, who was leaning back into the mountain of pillows behind him and watching his husband and child with a smile. “Are you feeling better?”

“It’s just an annoyance, really, at this point.” He shrugged. “Deaton says I should start trying to walk around a little bit, get some exercise in. Isabelle’s almost a week old, so Kira and I are going to try to take her for a little bit of fresh air tomorrow.”

Derek’s eyebrows lowered in concern. “Are you sure that’s really a good idea?”

“We’re only going to take a small lap around the garden. I don’t think I could take much more than that anyways.” Derek still didn’t look appeased so Stiles sighed. “We’ll have Scott and Erica with us too, don’t worry.”

Derek just grumbled something to himself, absentmindedly wiping a line of drool off Isabelle’s chin with the back of his hand. 

“Come on Derek, neither of us have really left this room since she was born. She only knows these four walls and I’m going to go insane if I have to look at them any more.”

“She can’t even see the walls yet Stiles. She can barely see our faces.” Derek clearly wasn’t having Stiles’ theatrics. 

Stiles just crossed his arms and stared at him for a moment, until Derek rolled his eyes. 

“I never said you couldn’t go Stiles. Anyway, even if I dared too, I don’t think anything I could say would control you.”

That made Stiles smirk. “Good assumption, oh wise king.”

Leaning forward, Derek pressed a kiss against Stiles’ forehead, making the omega nearly purr, and he chuckled. “How did I even up with such an infuriating man like you?”

At that point, sandwiched between her parents, Isabella let out a loud wail, as if annoyed by the fact that her father’s were both there but not paying her any attention. Both their eyes snapped to her, the way her lip wobbled and her nose scrunched up, but there was no wetness in her eyes, no threat of tears spilling over. Derek scoffed, tapping her nose with his finger. “She’s already as dramatic as you.”

Stiles just tickled her sides, laughing at the clumsy way her limbs jerked and jumped as she let out high pitched squeals. “She’s papa’s little girl.”

 

—————————————————————

 

“I swear she gets cuter every time I see her!” Scott scooped Isabelle up from where she was laying in her bassinet as Stiles got ready, with a hand from Kira.

“Careful of her head,” Stiles reminded the beta, but watched happily as his friend held his daughter and rocked her back and forth. 

Scott was the closest thing to a brother Stiles had ever had, so there had been no question in his mind who he’d like to name as Isabelle’s godfather. He’d asked Scott when his friend had come to see the newborn for the first time, quietly awing over her as she slept in Stiles’ arms. Scott had teared up, nodded his head, and threw his arms around Stiles’ neck as best he could with both the sleeping infant between then and Derek letting out a warning growl, his instincts still going haywire around his vulnerable mate and pup.

Cora had been another story.

She got to hold Isabelle later on that first day, holding her so gently like she was scared her niece was going to break in her arms. Derek had been the one to ask his sister to be his daughter’s godmother, the one that he trusted to take care of her should anything happen to both of them, and Cora had been silent for a full minute. Her head was bent over Isabelle, leaving a curtain of her brown hair between them. Stiles, confused, had looked between her and Derek, who was just watching his younger sister with a gentle look in his face.

Then he heard a soft sniff come from the elder princess and she lifted her head, giving her acceptance. Isabelle then made a small noise, capturing her attention again, and Cora trailed her finger across one pudgy cheek, with the softest smile Stiles had ever seen on her. 

If anything, gods forbid, ever happened to him or Derek and left their little girl on her own, he was confident that those two would dedicate themselves to keeping his Little Belle safe and raising her well.

Though, before that happened, Scott would need to learn how to play with her without jostling her around too much and making her cry in annoyance.

Scott panicked at her cries, shushing her loudly looking for help. Erica took a step away from Scott, her hands raised in the air, and Kira laughed, hands busy tying the robe-like thing that Stiles was wearing for their walk. Stiles just rolled his eyes and reached out for his daughter, letting Scott eagerly hand her off.

Her little normally pink face was an angry red, but as soon as Stiles held her close, hand rubbing on her back and letting a comforting scent out, she quickly calmed down, drooling lightly on his neck. “You’ve got to learn how to handle crying infants Scott, before you two have any of your own.”

Scott’s mouth popped open and he looked over to Kira, who was blushing furiously and focusing way too much on smoothing down her skirt now that Stiles was ready. Erica didn’t even hide her laugh. 

The walk in the gardens was beautiful, the summer air warm and sweet with the scent of the flowers in bloom, but it was slow. Stiles hadn’t walked further since giving birth than to his chamberpot and back, so even just going down the stairs was a hard endeavor. Kira had held onto Isabella, loosely wrapped in her blanket, while Erica and Scott closely hovered by Stiles and each had a gentle hand on his arms, should he stumble and take a fall.

They made it about halfway around the path before Stiles had to rest and sit on a conveniently placed stone bench, wincing and shifting when he first sat down. Isabelle was enraptured by the new world about her, eyes wide when though she probably couldn’t see more that the vaguest shapes and colors unless they were right in front of her face. Stiles tipped back his head, letting his skin soak in the summer sun, and he could tell that the other three with them were likewise enjoying the trip outside.

Despite their guarded stances and watchful eyes, Scott and Erica were relaxed, smiling and their noses flared as they breathed in. Kira sat besides him, dark hair loose and a soft rosy color in her cheeks as she rubbed a velvety fallen petal between her fingers.

They all talked about anything, everything. Just small things about their everyday lives, like what Melissa had been writing back to Scott, Kira’s training with her katana, what Boyd was like when he was with Erica and less stoic. 

Relaxing, just enjoying each other’s company in a way they hadn’t been able to in a long while.

Isabelle had drifted off by the time that Stiles stood up again from the bench, slightly curled in on herself like she still wasn’t completely used to being outside the womb. By the time that they made it back to the royal chambers, Stiles was just as tired as she was.

He put her down in the bassinet, puling the blanket down so she wouldn’t accidentally smother herself in her sleep, then let Kira help him strip down to his undergarments before he crawled into bed.

He got a good two hours to sleep before Isabelle’s cries told him she’d grown hungry again.

 

—————————————————————

 

A measly two months later, Isabelle had already grown vastly before Stiles’ eyes. Her eyes darkened slightly in a way that indicated she was probably developing the same brown eyes as her papa as opposed to Derek’s beautiful greens, and her hair was still downy soft, but thicker, among so many other things. 

Stiles finally agreed to let her be put in the nursery, with a nursemaid to watch over her as she slept. The turning point was when, after a few months of being celibate after Stiles’ aroused pregnancy state turned to discomfort and then the birth of their daughter, Derek had been rutting up against Stiles in his sleep. Still half asleep after being woken up by the movement, Stiles’ hand had crept between them to palm at Derek, before slipping into his sleeping pants. He’d just been given the embarrassing okay from Deaton to be _fully active_ again, so he gave it no more thought. Derek had proceeded to wake up with a light moan, but the two of them didn’t get much further than kissing and heavy groping before Isabelle made a light sound from her bassinet. They both froze and the sexual excitement was doused with ice cold water at the reminder that their infant lay only a few feet from them.

The next day the servants were dusting down the nursery and Stiles and Derek were personally vetting through the candidates to care for Isabelle. They were mostly omegas, with a few betas thrown in, and they all seemed pleasant enough, but Stiles looked at them all with a scrutinizing eye, wary of Kate perhaps sending another servant in to harm their daughter.

In the end, they decided on another rare male omega named Danny. Derek had seemed a little ill at ease when they realized that he was human, but he came from Stiles’ own home country and revealed sadly that his own father had been a victim in one of the Argent’s recent outskirt village attacks, so it wasn’t likely that he would be so keen to help Kate. 

The final test was how Isabelle took to him. Under the solid gaze of the hovering parents, Danny gently picked up Isabelle and held her to his shoulder where he’d draped a cloth soaked in Stiles’ scent. She seemed a little confused at first, the face smiling at her not matching either of her fathers, but his soft tone and gentle rocking quickly consoled her and she busied herself with gnawing on his finger with her gums.

Having Danny caring for Isabelle freed a lot of time for Stiles. He could finally give attention back to the state of the kingdom affairs, spend quiet, lovely private dinners with Derek and other things had hadn’t been able to do for the past months. They were also finally able to sleep through the night again, Stiles each day providing enough milk to be kept for Danny to feed his Little Belle when she awoke hungry in the night.

That didn’t mean that either of them didn’t spend their days fawning over her, wrapped around her tiny pinky finger. Any free time either Derek or Stiles had found them either in the nursery with Isabelle, or having her brought to them. There was no world in which either parent would let her just grow up at a distance, raised by nannies and tutors.

Though the sky was beginning to darken as the sun started its decent, Derek was still training with the newest recruits so Stiles decided to give a visit to the nursery instead of eating by himself. He opened the door was a bright smile, freezing when, instead of the expected sight of Danny bent over her crib, Peter’s dark eyes flicked up to his. 

Clenching his fists, Stiles spurred forward, standing on the other side of the crib to check worriedly on his daughter. The relief he felt to see her laying happily, playing with hand Peter loosely dangled over her, was indescribable.

“Worried I’d hurt your little girl?” Peter said smoothly, staring right at him from the other side. “Surely you don’t think me stupid or cruel enough?”

“Maybe just crazy enough.” Stiles muttered to himself, but didn’t doubt that Peter easily hear him, especially from the way the older man’s lip curled. He quickly reached in and lifted Isabelle into his arms, letting her head rest above his heartbeat.

“You seem so intent to believe that I want to hurt her. I’m sorely hurt.”

“Then stop giving me reasons to think that.” Stiles snapped. “Where’s Danny?”

Peter shrugged. “I sent the omega out, told him I wanted to have some bonding time with Isabelle. She is pack now, after all.”

Stiles glared at him, but didn’t even try to answer. He just turned his attention to Isabelle squirming in his arms. The silence was heavy, tense, between them, and Stiles just begged in his mind for Peter to leave.

“I never got to hold my own child like that, you know,” Peter’s voice suddenly cut across. He was just gazing at Isabelle. “My mate, she was a spitfire, and it took me so long to even be able to convince her to settle down with me. You know it’s harder for beta couples to conceive a child, but we did. I’ve never been particularly fond of messy little children, but I was excited.”

Stiles didn’t know why on earth Peter was telling him all this, but he couldn’t stop him in a morbid fascination with the look into Peter’s own past. He could only listen, eyes wide.

“She was so sure it was going to be a girl that I didn’t dare consider anything else. Perhaps she was better that you in that way, more in tune with her child.” He continued even as Stiles bristled at the insult. “We debated though, whether she would be a werewolf or a werecoyote like my mate. Of course I hoped for a werewolf like myself.”

He chuckled and Stiles shuddered at the sound. It was humorless and dark, empty.

“I never got to find out, never got to hold my daughter the way you hold yours in your arms. And do you remember why that is?”

Peter started at him expectantly, and Stiles shifted uncomfortably. “Because of the fire,” he said softly.

“Because of the fire!” There was a manic look in his eyes. “The fire that Derek’s little hunter lover helped set.”

Stiles didn’t take that, anger boiling in in his veins. “You know that Derek would have rather died than let that fire take his family from him. He’s tortured himself over that mistake everyday, you know he has, and he’s trying to bring this war and death to an end.”

“Or trying to let the people who killed my sister, my whole family, go with their lives.” Peter’s voice lowered down to a growl. “I listened to their screams as they burned, witnessed the pain, fear and anguish they felt as they all died and I couldn’t get to them, thanks to the circle of mountain ash keeping them in. I felt the moment my mate died, deep in my chest, like my own soul was cracking in two. I wait for the day to hear the Argents making the same cries as they slowly die, preferably at my own hands.” His eyes glowed blue, and his fists were clenched tight with blood slowly oozing from between his fingers where his claws must have come out.

“Murdering the Argents won’t bring your family back,” Stiles said, surprised at how steady his voice was.

“No, it won’t.” Peter calmed himself after a moment, eyes turned back to their normal shade and his hands relaxing to reveal the already deep gorges in his palm. “But it’ll make me feel a lot better.”

“Derek is trying to forge the alliance with the Argents. As soon as King Gerald dies, his son will take over as regent and he’s agreed to make a treaty. This is under Derek’s wishes, and you can’t disobey them without committing treason.”

 “Then perhaps Derek simply isn’t seeing clearly,” Peter said. “Some of them might be playing friendly right now, but it’s only a matter of time until they lull us into a state of ease before snapping their jaws down around us. Derek isn’t quite as invulnerable anymore as he’d like to think.”

With that, Peter reached a hand across to swipe gently across the soft hair on Isabelle’s head even as Stiles flinched back, and then strode right out. Stiles sat in the rocking chair to the side as he felt his knees going week, pressing a kiss to his unsuspecting daughter’s cheek as she played with the collar of his shirt.

It couldn’t have been a coincidence when he received a letter a few days later as he sat in his chambers with Kira and Isabelle in his lap. 

He was playing with her, pinching her cheeks and tickling her side when there was a knock on the door. Kira pushed up off the bed and went to the door cracking it open to see who was on the other side. Stiles didn’t give their short interact there much thought, attacking Isabelle with kisses to hear her squeals.

He only looked up when Kira closed the door, turned back with a small letter in her hand. “Who’s that from?”

“I don’t know,” she said, looking confused. “The messenger said that the boy who deliver the letter was just paid to pass it along. It’s addressed to you though. Do you want to open it?”

Stiles nodded and she picked up the letter opener from his desk before handing them both to him.

Isabelle was content to lay propped up by his legs, playing with her own hands, as Stiles sliced the top of the envelope open. The letter was written on a poor quality piece of parchment, much like the one’s Derek would send him when he was in the brigade, the writing done with a quill probably dipped in ash instead of ink.

But there wasn’t a lot of writing on the letter. Instead, he was faced with a crudely drawn picture. It was slightly smeared, but Stiles could easily see the message meant to be conveyed through it. There was a large beast, head thrown back with a howl coming from its mouth, a spear half buried in its back. At its feet lay a much smaller version of the beast, arrows embedded into its back.

The only letter on the page was a large sprawling ‘K’ below it, right new to a kiss where she must had coated her lips in a red tint before pressing them to the paper. Even if her signature hadn’t decorated her sickening portrait, her house’s sigil buried in what seemed to be her rendering of Derek. 

Which just meant that Kate meant to show Isabelle dead at his feet with her favorite little weapon.

Stiles felt a tightness wrapping up in his chest, throwing the letter aside after crumpling it in his fist. Kira just stood in front of him, brow wrinkled as she looked at him with concern. She hadn’t seen Kate’s little love letter, but Stiles’ mounting distress was obvious.

Arm’s tucking Isabelle below his chin, Stiles stood up abruptly, giving her a smile that felt as stiff as it was forced. “Kira, could you go find Derek for me? I know he’s probably busy, but I think it’s an emergency.”

Her mouth opened, like she wanted to ask what was wrong, but instead Kira simply picked up her skirt with one hand to walk and left with a quick pace. Stiles just paced back and forth in the room, his breath catching hard in his throat and a pounding in his skull growing and growing until he found himself catching himself against the wall, sliding down until he was sitting on the ground, caging himself and Isabelle in with his knees pulled and his torso curling over. 

He was having a panic attack. 

The second one over his daughter’s safety, the second one due to Kate. They survived the first attempt, but only just due to luck, and now she was out of his womb, more vulnerable to Kate’s vengeance when he couldn’t protect her.

He was crying softly, hiccuping as he struggled to breath and just trying to hold her close to him. Isabelle began to fuss, bothered by the distressed pheromones her father was putting out, squirming in his grip and making small noises that would turn to cries soon.

Stiles just shut his eyes, feeling sick when the room began to almost spin in front of him. He barely registered the door opening up, but when arms came around him, he wanted to thrash out against it, only to have his limbs ignore the command and allow him to be pulled against a wide chest.

Instantly, he physically relaxed, burrowing his nose towards the calming scent pushed towards him as Derek talked softly to him, rocking them slightly in time his breathing. “It’s alright Stiles.” The rumble of the timber of his chest was grounding, and Stiles couldn’t help but push his face into Derek’s neck, even as tears wet his cheeks and probably more than a little snot ran from his nose. He hiccuped again painfully, soothed by Derek’s hand rubbing his back, and closed his eyes, just trying to match his inhales with Derek. 

Once he was finally coming down from his panic attack, feeling completely drained, Derek helped pull him up to his feet. The alpha gently took Isabelle from Stiles’ arms, easily balancing her in the crook of one of his elbows. At the soft urging, Stiles crawled into the bed, fully clothed and burrowed beneath the covers. Once he was settled, Derek laid Isabelle on top of the duvet and then laid on his side on the opposite sit from Stiles.

Despite having been unsettled by her papa’s panic attack, laying between both her parents, Isabelle was entirely put at ease, her small mouth puckering in a yawn before she began to chew on her own hand, eyes drowsily fluttering. 

They were silent from a moment, Derek just looking at Stiles with Stiles pretended to be wholly distracted by their daughter, the only sound his soft sniffles. Finally Derek sighed. 

“What happened Stiles?” He said. “One minute I’m in the middle of council and then Kira rushes in, insisting that I come back up to our room, and I find you huddled up on the ground in the middle of a panic attack.”

Stiles finally dragged his gaze up to look at Derek, feeling guilty. “I got send a letter today. It’s probably on the floor.” 

He didn’t continue, this throat thick where he tried to clear it, and Derek sat up, bending down when he spotted the crumbled parchment. Stiles watched warily as Derek looked at the drawing, first looking confused, then infuriated. The paper was again crumbled up, but then Derek moved to the desk. He pulled out a tinder box from a drawer and lit a match, before walking to the fireplace. It was somewhat pleasing to see Derek bring the small flame to the letter, then drop both lit pieces in the fireplace for a short but brilliant burn.

“When will we ever get to stop looking over our shoulders Derek?”

Derek didn’t turn away from the fireplace until even the ashes had stopped glowing. “We’re bringing this war to an end.”

“The war doesn’t bring an end to Kate. This is personal to her.” Stiles’ voice sounded just as tired as he was. “This ends when either we or she dies.”

“Then we kill her.” Derek’s eyes were bright with anger, though not directed at his husband.

Stiles just tucked the blanket tighter under his chin. Derek sat down beside him, Isabelle making a light sound at the feeling of the bed dipping under his weight. Stiles let his eyes flutter shut when Derek began running his fingers through the omega’s hair, feeling soothed by the stroking. 

“You two are the most important things in my life by far,” Derek said, voice soft. “I would rather cut my own head off with my claws before I would let something come close to harming you if I could. Kate will be dealt with, I promise you that.”

“As much as I know you mean every word with all your heart, some promises just can’t be made Derek.”

“I still make this promise.” Derek’s voice was sharp, leaving no room for argument.

Sighing, Stiles just tried to sink further into the bed. “I grew up pretty free, I could run around with Scott all day and just be a kid, but after I presented — god. Suddenly my father was so scared that I would get caught again by an alpha and he didn’t want to even think of what would happen then. So then I was under lock and key, always watched and handled.” Stiles opened his eyes again, looking straight at Derek. “I know dad didn’t mean anything by it, I’m sure finding me in the beginning of my first heat out in the open with some alphas ready to pounce on me didn’t do any favors for his heart. But still, I know the feeling of being constantly watched in fear of a threat. Isabelle would have it so much worse because we’ve already seen the lengths Kate will go to. That’s not a way to raise our child.”

Derek’s hand moved from Stiles’ hair across his cheek to down where Isabelle laid. She made a happy noise. His eyes were intense on Stiles. “I made my promise.”

 

—————————————————————

 

Full moons were such a large hassle with Isabelle.

Everyone was always on their toes the day of a full moon, the wolves already feeling antsy in anticipation. But as her young mind couldn’t comprehend the reason for the bundle of energy just bustling inside her, so instead she grew irritated and distressed. Stiles was on hand with Danny all day, the two of them alternating holding and bouncing her as she cried, trying to coax her to feed, or just make her less cranky, but the movement just made her push at them, she’s turn her head away when Stiles brought her to his chest, and she’s just wiggle around any time they put her in the crib.

Every month seemed to make it worse, so Stiles was just glad to have Danny try to deal with it along with him, though both humans seemed frighteningly out of their element.

“Last month she was just more fussy than usual. She wasn’t going full meltdown like this,” Stiles tried to explain as he rocked Isabella back and forth.

“Hopefully this is the worst she’ll get,” Danny chuckled back, running a hand over his face as he looked a bit frazzled. After all, he’d been with her since it had started early in the morning. “Better to jump right in and get it all over with.”

Deaton had explained once that Isabelle was so antsy because she was too young to shift, but her inner wolf was still going crazy with the pull of the moon. “Imagine a pressure that’s just begging to be released, but it has nowhere to go, to it’s just pushing and ready to burst. It’s not a painful sensation, but she’s too young now to do anything but voice her discomfort, _loudly_. It’ll ease with time until she’s actually able to shift.”

Stiles felt her straining in his arms, stretching the best she could towards the window. It was dark outside, and he knew that all the wolves of Beacon Hills were once again carefully gathered outside for their run since Derek had already stopped by to kiss Stiles and regretfully hold his daughter as she cried her unhappiness to her daddy.

Then he had an idea.

“Danny,” he said. “Grab her blanket and follow me.”

And with that he opened the door to the nursery and walked out, leaving Danny to scramble after him. It was a cool evening air when he marched outside to the courtyard, filled with either half naked citizens or wolves already shifted and rolling around in the grass and each other. Everything was lit up with the huge, glowing moon hanging low in the sky.

A large black wolf quickly trotted up to them, Derek’s red eyes conveying his confusion as he looked at Stiles. Stiles chose to ignore the small sound Danny made.

“There’s no way we’re going to be able to put her down again until she basically passes out in exhaustion. She might as well be under the full moon with the rest of her pack.” Stiles knelt down and took the blanket from Danny to lay on the ground so the chill of the damp grass wouldn’t startle Isabelle. She developed enough strength in her body to sit up with only minimal assistance from her papa in holding her head up, and for the first time all day she was completely silent. Her eyes were just big dark orbs that stared up at the hulking black beast in front of her.

Derek sat back on his haunched, then lowered his head slowly before her. All three of the adults watched her with baited breath, terrified that she would burst into terrified tears. Instead, she just clumsily reached up, and though it took her a few tries, she placed her hand over Derek’s snout. 

Stiles laughed at the way Derek’s eyes just lit up, his tail thumping behind him. “She’ll always recognize her daddy.”

Isabelle squealed, hands reaching to try to pull at Derek’s fur with every fistful she could get. 

For the rest of the night, Derek stuck by his mate and child, laying down on his front paws, letting Isabelle crawl all over over him with Stiles’ helping hand to move her along. She babbled enthusiastically to both of them, finally enjoying herself on the full moon, surrounded by the pack that loved her and that one day she would rule over. 

“Why we didn’t do this earlier, I don’t know,” Stiles muttered, a hand keeping Isabelle steady as she laid on her stomach across Derek’s back.

The alpha wolf just let out a huff, ears twitching when Isabelle squealed again. Scott trotted up to them, tongue lolling out of his mouth as he panted, having come from running around the woods with the others. 

So apparently her lack of fear at the sight of wolves was more universal than just her father. 

Scott first nosed at her gently, making her giggle as his breath tickled her, and then turned to Stiles, licking his cheek wetly. Derek let out a weak warning growl, but Stiles just lightly flicked at his nose and he rolled his red eyes away.

Eventually, having tired herself out finally, Isabelle fell asleep onto of her papa, and Stiles smiled in relief. Of course, they should have thought of this a long while ago. Just like any other wolf did, Isabelle just longed to be out in nature with the rest of her kind. 

A yawn popped his jaw, and Stiles rested against the side of Derek’s body, relishing in the heat that just radiated off of him. “One of our better nights then.”

Derek lifted his head and looked to him. Stiles just gave a tired smile. “Let’s just enjoy the night a little bit longer before we go inside.”

Derek was curled around the two of them, his head and tail turned in, and Stiles closed his eyes, enjoying the sound of the festivities of everyone else through the night.

He fell asleep there and didn’t wake, even when he husband carefully shifted back and carried both him and their child in equal deep sleep back to their respective beds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm not sure if I'm going to split up the next chapter into two or have it just be one long chapter, but there will be that and then an epilogue, so we're almost done with this story!!  
> In other words, the big climax is coming up, so prepare yourselves!  
> After that, I'll start my Outlander AU


	17. Happy Announcement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm alive!

Hey everyone! 

 

I know it's been a little less than a year since the last time I actually posted the last chapter to this story, and I'm sure that many of you probably gave up thinking that it would every get finished. Even I had those doubts and I effectively gave up on it myself. 

But, lately, I've really been feeling that itch to write again after being way too busy to even consider it. At first, I couldn't seem to get myself into the groove again to finish this story, and instead I wrote a huge beginning chunk of the next Sterek AU I mentioned before that I wanted to write, which is loosely based on the Outlander TV and book series. The problem was I just could seem to let go of Meant to Be One in the back of my mind. 

This story was my little passion for a huge portion of last year, and I feel kind of empty just leaving it unresolved. So, here I am announcing that I'm determined to give it the end that Derek, Stiles, Isabelle and all the others deserve. I've written out my outline for what I want to happen from here on out, which should stretch to another last couple of chapters, and I'll do my best to get those out to you guys on a timely weekly basis.

 

I love you guys and hope that there's still some interest in my story!

 

\- Mary


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the price of a hopeful peaceful future, things come to a head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys!!! Here's finally the new chapter! So sorry it took a little longer than expected, college is keeping me quite a bit busy, but I'm trying my best to get chapters out a soon as possible!

There was something mystic about a bonding ceremony at night, the fresh crisp air blowing softly where they sat outside. For once, the King and King consort were nowhere near the center of attention, blending into the rest of the small gathering. Instead, everyone’s eyes were on the couple standing before them, the duos own eyes only for each other.

Scott and Kira’s hands were clasped together between them, overjoyed smiles adorning both their faces ever since their bonding ceremony began.

They decided to have the ceremony outside in the gardens, the large waxing moon adding light to the soft glow already given by the lanterns hung on stakes. They both looked incredibly handsome, Scott’s waves finally combed back and dressed finely in rolled soft trousers and a white tunic but Kira was absolutely breathtaking. Her dark hair was carefully curled and loose down her back, contrasting deeply with the delicately simple white dress she wore and the small lilies woven in her locks.

Stiles had been proud to help with that, brushing aside all her protests that the King should be attending her, and instead carefully weaving each in after each curl Erica made with the hot iron curler.

The contrast of black and white was entirely enchanting, and only worked the highlight the pink of her lips and cheeks, and the bright spark to her eyes that was only matched in Scott’s own gaze.

Deaton officiated for them, because _why the hell not_ , the man seemed capable of doing every single task anyone could ask for. His voice was soothing as he read through the vows for them, and it sort of drifted to the back of Stiles’ mind like a low murmur. Instead his attention was on his closest friends and the happiness of their moment.

That was what a bonding ceremony was meant to be, a celebration of the happiness and love that a couple shared and to welcome in the moment they would share their souls to each other until the day they died. Stiles though back to his own bonding ceremony, the fear he felt in that moment, the uncertainty to binding himself to a complete stranger, and he faintly shook his head. It had been a mockery of a bonding compared to this.

But then a hand touched his knee and Stiles looked to Derek to find the alpha watching him with a questioning quirk to his gaze. Stiles just gave him a small smile and threaded his fingers though the ones resting on his leg before turning his attention back to the ceremony.

Their mating has a good awful rough start for sure, but it had come to a good end. They were equals now in this life,matching mating marks adorning both of their necks proudly, and their beautiful little girl sitting happily in Melissa’s lap beside them and sucking on the fabric of her dress.

“-for life. This bonding is your commitment to each other, to care for, to love and to protect as deeply as your spirit will go,” Deaton was saying when Stiles tuned back in. “Do you both understand the responsibility you put in each other’s hands?”

“ _I do._ ” The lovebirds spoke in unison. Scott was barely refraining from vibrating in excitement, and Kira’s words were breathy.

“Then let you have our blessing, the blessing of the pack and all our ancestors who watch under the light of the moon. Goddess sees over you.” As he spoke, Deaton pulled a silver cord that had been hanging on around his neck and held it out with both hands. Having been prepped extensively with the traditions in the weeks leading up to the wedding, Scott held his hand above the taunt cord, palm up and fingers flat and extended. Kira laid her hand right on top of his, hers instead palm down, and Deaton wrapped the rope around their joined hands and their wrists loosely. “Let this manifest the bond which your souls will take on, the enteral joining with you willingly take on. With this, I hallow this union in ceremony. To go forth, let the two of you act as one, in whatever way that takes you.”

Still tied together, Scott and Kira kissed, the beta sweeping his new mate into his free arm as she laughed into their locked lips. The small wedding party cheered for them, Stiles jumping to his feet and hooting, and Melissa nearly bursting into tears next to him, pride clear on her face.

Isabelle, who’d been close to nodding off in Melissa’s hold certainly didn’t appreciate the sudden burst of celebration, and began to wind up a whine that was clearly about to turn into a full blown crying episode. Melissa tried to sooth her for a moment, but her muted beta pheromones clearly weren’t enough and Derek quickly stepped in to take his little girl from her. He held his princess close on his chest, letting her burrow her face in his neck, and she calmed down, though her amber eyes glared up at him, as if all the noise was her daddy’s fault and that he should make it stop immediately.

All the guests made their way to congratulate the happy couple, Stiles hugging Scott as tight as he possibly could and laughing with his best friend before more delicately embracing Kira, who had become as close a confidant in past year and some months since she first came to his rooms, flustered and rambling. Then he stepped back, letting Melissa greet her son and her daughter-in-law with so much enthusiasm and love that it made Stiles’ heart warm for them. He hoped to be as good a parent when his daughter was grown.

There would be no reception for this wedding, only the guests mingling for a while until the couple would excuse themselves to go consulate their mating and finally give the bonding mark in the privacy and passion of their own bed.

Stiles grabbed a glass of wine offered by a servant and looked around as he sipped at it. Derek stood talking with his sister and Issac, with the alpha godmother holding Isabelle and softly rocking her even as the five month old was fast asleep against her shoulder. Soon they would probably be attending another ceremony for them, Stiles mused. The council had just recently finally given up trying to still convince Derek that it would be better to marry Cora for an advantageous arranged marriage, the concept that Derek had put his foot down and would be unmoved on his little sister’s happiness finally sinking into their thick heads.

Erica and Boyd danced to the soft melodic music being played, a striking couple as they moved sinfully smooth together. Some other people meandered around as well, but they were probably other soldiers that Scott had befriended or other courtiers Kira knew and Stiles didn’t pay them much attention.

Instead he swallowed the last of the wine in the small glass and then crossed the grass to join his mate. “Would you mind caring for her a little bit longer?” He asked Cora, winding his arm around Derek’s.

“I’ve got her,” the dark haired woman gave Stiles her signature smirk. “As long as you come and get her again before my arms get tired,” she warned, with no heat behind her words, and Stiles grinned at her as he began to drag Derek away.

The alpha looked amused as he allowed himself to be led away from his conversation. “And where are we going Stiles? I know it’s been a little while, but I don’t think your best friend and handmaiden’s bonding is the right time to sneak off.”

“Not that, getting your mind out of your pants,” Stiles laughed. They reached the moving crowd just as the music swelled to it end and Stiles pushed them into line for the next group dance. “The last time we danced was just after our wedding. I’d like another go.”

The first notes of the new lively tune started up, and Derek smiled at them as they began to move. It was a common dance that they all knew well, a number that had them switching partners every few beats before finally ending back with their original pairings, Derek and Stiles both a bit flushed and enjoying themselves.

As familiar they were with the people both in and working closely for their court, they were always ‘The King’ and ‘King Consort’. The were a certain formality that was always given to them, undertoning conversations. But here, with only a small group of friends and close ones, and the focus of the night on Scott and Kira, Derek and Stiles were simply two others enjoying the festivities, the attention off of them as they danced away.

One more energetic song played and the dance had Stiles paired with Boyd for most of it, the usually somber man a surprisingly entertaining partner, while likewise Erica cackled as she kept Derek on his toes, her loose blonde hair whirling around her as she moved.

Finally, the band slowed to a more relaxed number when Scott and Kira decided to join their friends on the designated dance floor. Derek approached Stiles and held out his hand, an amused twinkle to his gaze. “Would you care if I stole you for this dance?”

“My prince charming,” Stiles teased, taking the extended hand and placing his other on Derek’s shoulder.

For a moment, they only swayed back and forth to the beat, pressed close together, letting their breath slow down and the night air cool their heated cheeks. Then Stiles felt a rumble deep in Derek’s chest, and it took him a moment to realize that his husband was humming along to the song.

If Stiles had been part animal, he felt so content that he might have started purring.

“What were you thinking about earlier?” Derek’s voice was soft as they continued to move in a slow circle.

“Hmm?” It took a moment for the question to actually sink into Stiles’ head. “Oh, nothing really. Just — watching this more traditional bonding ceremony… Did you wish that you could have had your wedding like that?”

Derek actually considered for a moment, lips pursed as he thought. “Did I imagine something like that when I was young? Yeah, of course. It was all I’d ever seen,” he said finally. “But as I grew older I realized there was a good chance I might not marry a werewolf or a human that grew up on our traditions, and telling someone what we are is a huge deal and takes a great amount of trust in both of us. Kate was just reinforcement of how badly that can go if the wrong person is told. And after the fire, it was almost guaranteed that if I ever married, it would be to an outsider.”

“Our wedding was big, dull and formal,” Stiles said. “There are obvious reasons for why it went the way it did, but if I could marry you again, I’d have a small ceremony like this. With your — with _our_ pack.”

Derek chuckled, his nose tilting down to brush Stiles’. “I would too. And maybe we will.”

“When did you get so sappy? What happened to the Great Hale Beast that I thought was going to tear my head off on our wedding day?”

When Derek’s head ducked down a little, nuzzling into his neck, Stiles just tilted his head back to let him. “Whenever I breath you in, vanilla and cinnamon suddenly feels like heaven and I just want to curl around and you never let go. I know I’ve mentioned before, but when _she_ was trying to get close to me, to trick me into thinking she was my mate, she had somehow learned to cover her own scent in a fake one. It was made specifically for me, so of course, it was vanilla and cinnamon. There was always something a little off, it was a little bitter, wasn’t as warm as yours is. But I was young and excited.”

Stiles slide the hand that had been resting on Derek’s shoulder to instead wind through his hair, comforting as he softly scratched the werewolf’s scalp. “So you were worried when you smelled my scent. It’s understandable.”

“She ruined my life, murdered most of my family, and now she wants to do it again. She nearly ruined us Stiles. I began this marriage wanting nothing more than to step off that alter and walk away, but now I would give up and do anything to keep you and Isabelle safe and mine.”

Stiles pulled back a little so he could look at Derek, a smile still pulling on his lips. “And we would both do the same for you. Don’t underestimate how vicious your infant can be when she wants something.”

“Speaking of,” Derek said, nudging Stiles and he twirled them in time to the music so they ended up facing the opposite way, and Stiles looked over his shoulder to see that Isabelle had woken up in Cora’s arms. While the little girl usually loved her aunt, the grumpy look on her face suggested that her tired mood did not endear her to anyone at the moment.

Issac shot them a pleading look, trying to coax the little girl over his beloved’s shoulder.

Derek gave them one more turn across the grass ballroom, humming again to the melody, and then ended their dance with an exaggerated bow, stilling holding Stiles’ right hand, which just made the omega laugh. Then they took Isabelle back from a relieved Cora and Issac.

The pair still mingled around a bit, meeting Kira’s parents who had come for the special occasion.

Noshiko Yukimura was a striking older alpha, a Kitsune with dark eyes that glittered with wisdom. Her mate, a kind human beta named Ken, was beaming with happiness as he kept looking at his daughter where she whispered and laughed with Scott, half secluded by rose bushes. Stiles immediately respected the couple, power basically oozing off of Noshiko, even as she gave him half smiles as they spoke. She and Derek made light talk of how her ambassador work was going, while Ken entertained Stiles of stories about Kira growing up that he would certainly be brining up to her at a later point.

Soon, Kira and Scott were left the party to head to their new shared chambers, waved off amid whistles and cheers that made them both turn red as they hurried away. After that, Stiles and Derek made took the opportunity of their own make their way back inside as well, stopping by the nursery to hand Isabelle off to Danny much after her bed time, with plenty of kisses on her plump cheeks of course.

Then Stiles has no qualms when Derek proceeded to drag him back to their bedchamber to suck him until he was stars, and then pound him into the mattress until he couldn’t tell where he started and Derek ended.

He certainly had sweet dreams that night, sleeping with Derek wrapped up around him.

The next morning, as they were having a lazy start in bed, a young page boy brought in Derek’s papers to read as he ate breakfast from the tray that was brought in for them. Stiles was a bit surprised when the young beta handed him a single folded letter after handing Derek his stack, the boy then bowing deeply and backing out.

He popped the rest of the strawberry he’d been eating into his mouth, wiping the juice from his fingers messily on the front of the robe he wore under the covers before picking it up. His throat went a bit dry when he looked at the seal, the clear marking in the wax of the L shaped marker Stiles had had commissioned as a gift for Lydia for her sixteenth birthday.

As far as Derek, and all the rest of the people around him, were concerned, all of their communication was simple friends keeping touch over long distance, letter’s detailing only their lives and other frivolous accounts. But, Lydia had been determined to act as Stiles’ spy while she was nestled deep in the heart of Argent territory. Allison and her father were in on it as well, both deeply disturbed by their family’s blood thirsty involvement in the murders and hate crimes of thousands. As the princess’ intended mate, Lydia was given overall access to a certain extent, able to see things or listen in on conversations that would never happen anywhere near the Crown Prince or his daughter.

But, even between the three of them, there wasn’t much clear information. Conspiracies hung heavy in Argent court, and it was hard to tell what was true or simply rumor, and with the obvious anti-war state Chris and Allison took, generals and other people of importance weren’t lining up to discuss army tactics with them.

As guilty as Stiles felt and how much he wanted to tell Derek about the letters, he knew he couldn’t yet. Not until something credible came through, some information they could actually use in that moment, because Stiles knew that the moment that Derek found out what was going on, he would shut it down.

Even if it was useful to have the three of them corresponding with Stiles, Derek would insist that it was grossly dangerous, to both Lydia and Stiles, if anyone found it, or that Lydia wasn’t trained as a spy and would be bound in his eyes to trip up if she tried to step too far. He wouldn’t want her safety on his head and conscious.

So, Derek could yell at them after they gave him useful information, but only then.

Stiles unfolded the letter, scanning over the fluff Lydia always started her letters with, taking time to describe her day, the dress that she was imagining for for wedding ceremony, and other frivolous light talk.

Finally, near the end, he found something of use. Phrased very casually, Lydia wrote on:

 

‘A _llison and I just hope that her grandfather will be well enough to attend the wedding. I know how much if would gut her if he doesn’t show up, and that would just put a dower on the whole celebration._

_If I have to push back the wedding for mourning, I’m going to be quite upset._

_As it is now anyway, Gerard is bedridden with his illness. Chris and Kate have been more than besides themselves over it, Kate even arrived back a couple days ago and has been by her father’s bed ever since. Unusually tender by what I know of her, but they are close I suppose. Quite overwhelmed.’_

 

So Kate was home then, instead of prowling out in the wood somewhere, sharping her knives as Stiles always mentally pictured her. If Gerard’s illness was finally bringing him to death’s door, this meant that soon enough Chris would be King, and his treaty with Derek would bring the war to an end.

Stiles carefully folded the letter again and tucked it under his leg. Just as he reached for another slice of fruit, Derek suddenly threw back his covers and jumped out of bed, startling Stiles.

Derek rushed to pull on his robe, movement a little hectic, but he laughed at Stiles’ wide eyed express as he watched the alpha with a question starting to form on his lips. “News from a spy tracking Kate,” he shared, fingers tying the robe closed. “King Gerard’s almost dead, which means she’s home instead of rallying troops.”

Stiles let his mouth pop open in a little ‘o’ of surprise, even as Lydia’s perfectly timed letter burned beneath his thigh under the covers. “If Gerard’s dying, that means Chris will be king soon. So an end to all the fighting?”

“An end to the war.” Derek never looked so giddy, green gaze bright. “And that means that Kate’s troops will be without their leader. So it’ll be easier to push them back further in the meantime.”

“Is that were you’re going then, to call counsel to drive them out?” Stiles looked a little bit mournfully at the half uneaten food still sitting on their bed.

Derek chuckled and walked quickly toward him to place a quick kiss to Stiles’ forehead even as the younger man pouted. “I promise you,” he said, gently grasping Stiles’ chin. “The minute I finish with the war council, I’ll be back and we can spend the day in bed.”

“Promise?”

Derek just pressed a kiss against his mouth, a little rough and definitely promising more, before leaving.

Stiles sighed, leaning back into the fluffy pillows and bit into the piece of strawberry still clutched between his fingers. His other hand pulled the letter out again, thumbing at the corner for a moment. Then he kicked back the covers, going to the low fire burning int the hearth and tossing the letter in.

He chewed slowly as he watched the fire burn through the parchment, blackening and curling Lydia’s words. He didn’t look away until the remains were indiscriminable from the wood’s ash and ember below the fire. Then Stiles just crawled back to bed, folding on arm behind his head as he grabbed at the still warm biscuit that would have been going to waste.

_Derek’s loss,_ he thought as he enjoyed the warmth of the bake good on his tongue.

 

—————————————————————

 

Third time was the charm, apparently, when it came to goodbyes.

Instead of arguments, or Stiles chasing after Derek at the last moment, the royal couple were huddled together late in the afternoon, just as the sun’s light began to disappear from the sky. Derek stood just behind Stiles, the alpha’s arm wrapped loosely around the omega’s waist as he looked fondly down over thee latter’s shoulder at their daughter. Isabelle squealed at them, her chubby pink hands grasping up at them.

“She’ll be crawling around on her own soon, according to Melissa,” Stiles said, talking absentmindedly as he gave her his hand to hold onto.

Derek’s hand rubbed reassuringly on Stiles’ side. “I’ll be back before you know it. A couple days to flush the rest them out of our borders and I’ll be right here to see Belle make her first movements across the floor. A little more time after that, and you’ll never have to worry about me going off to war again when the treaty gets signed.”

Stiles picked Isabelle up under her arms when she reached out for him and pushed her to Derek. “I’m not the only one you’ve got to say goodbye to this time. You better be back soon, mister, or king or not I’ll kill you myself if she freaks out when she realizes you’re not here to run in every time you hear her start to whine.”

“As if anything could keep me from you two,” Derek chuckled, taking hold of his daughter and letting her paw at his scruff. “I’m more scared that you’ll march into camp yourself if I take you long and drag me back by the ear.”

“I’ll be tempted.”

Derek smiled through the kiss he pressed to Isabelle’s soft forehead, eyes heavy on Stiles. He bounced her lightly. “Perhaps we can think towards another to keep Belle busy,” he said, tone lightly teasing.

Stiles snorted. “I think Kira and Scott will take care of that soon enough for us, I have no doubt of their enthusiasm.” But still Derek just looked at him, and Stiles put his hands on his hips. “I gave birth to _that_ _one_ less than half a year ago Derek, if you’ve forgotten, because I certainly haven’t. I’m not even thinking about adding another infant to the equation.”

Derek grumbled something into Isabelle’s hair, and Stiles rolled his eyes. “If you come back in one piece, not carried between Boyd and Jackson, we can _start_ to talk about it.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Derek smirked, turning his attention back to Isabelle when she smack him in the face full force, giggling at his offended expression.

Stiles laughed along with her and stepped forward, winding his arms around Derek so the three of them were huddled up all together, their princess locked between them. When Derek began to hum again, the three of them began a slow spin to the tune that Stiles’ recognized in a moment as the melody that they’d happily danced their last turn at Scott and Kira’s wedding three days before. Isabelle seemed comforted by both her parents on each side, their scents exuding soft happiness, and she laid her head on Derek’s shoulder, though her eyes remained open and actively alert as they moved.

“A favorite song of yours?” Stiles asked softly.

Derek shook his head lightly. “It was popular even when my parents held their balls. I remember sneaking with Laura onto the staircases to try to watch from a distance after our nurses had put us to sleep. We used to watch everyone dancing, all the pretty dresses and especially the fine masks at the masquerades my mother loved, and just imagine that we were old enough to attend already. My father always asked my mother to dance to this song, they would get the whole floor to themselves and just focus on each other. They were so elegant and beautiful, it’s hard to forget it.”

Stiles smiled sadly as Derek resumed humming. “I know the feeling, of the memory you can’t afford to lose. I can so clearly picture one day I was walking between my mother and father and we stopped in the courtroom. My mother picked me up and propped me onto my father’s throne, and then he took of his crown and placed it on my head. I couldn’t have been more than six or seven, and they were just having a laugh, looking at small me up there.

“But the crown was so big and heavy is slipped onto my face and I couldn’t see, and the throne felt way too hard and high up I guess. I don’t know why, but I started to panicking, thinking of one day that I’d have to really sit up there, maybe on my own. It just hit me at once, and I started to cry. Of course my parents immediately rushed to me, trying to sooth and calm me down, probably extremely confused. But I’ll never forget my mom smiling and holding my hands when I finally calmed down enough to tell her why I’d freaked out. She just told me how much she and my dad cared for me, that they would never make me go through it by myself, that they would be right by my side as long as I needed them and then even longer. But that, besides all that, I was her bright little boy and that she more than believed that between my heart and brain, there was nothing I could do.”

Stiles sighed, totally enraptured in his own memory. “She was like an angel right then, the light through the windows made her brown hair look like a hallow. She always wore it loose and wild, kind of like her. My crazy mother till the moment she died.”

Derek still hummed, though his attention was laser focused on Stiles. “You never said how she died,” he said softly after a moment.

“She had an illness the healers couldn’t take away. It slowly took her mind from her, but even when it got really bad near the end, she always had these moments of clarity and would call for me and my father. She never truly lost herself deep down.” Stiles finally focused on Derek again, with their daughter playing with his collar. “When you get back, when this is all finally over, we’ll finally get to have this perfect happiness that kept being stolen from us. Finally, a forever bliss. With your sister, Scott, Isabelle, any other kids, and even, _even_ , Peter.”

Derek’s expression was soft, but a smile still danced on his lips as he hummed the final notes. “I can’t wait,” he said once the song was finished.

 

—————————————————————

 

Seeing Derek off was as draining as always, no matter the circumstance. Derek had crushed his lips to Stiles’ in one last passionate goodbye, before regretfully stepping back and hopping astrid his stallion and leading his men off.

As per tradition now, Stiles stayed outside with Cora to watch the procession off until they were no longer visible through the forest wall. Then the two of them walked back inside, arm in arm for comfort and distracted themselves a little with a vulgar game of chess in the library. When it came time for a late dinner, Stiles declined to join her and Isaac.

Instead he wandered upstairs towards the nursery again. Isabelle would likely be asleep this late in the evening, but it would be uplifting to his spirit to see her before going to bed on his own. He knocked on the door lightly to give Danny fair warning before pushing the door open.

But then sudden confusion turned to ice in his veins.

A blonde woman stood with her back to him, singing softly a song he couldn’t make out, but she turned slowly at his entrance. Stiles dully noticed her all black garb, the blood sprayed on her cheek, or the vicious curve to her smile.

All he could focus on was his daughter, asleep and still wrapped in the blanket her fathers had lovingly picked out for her and covered her with after she was born. His daughter blissfully unaware as she dreamed on in the murderess’ arms who had taken away nearly allof her family, the arms that not only held her at that moment, but a dangerously sharp knife as well that made Stiles’ heart stop with how close the blade was to her slowly rising and falling chest. Her so fragile chest.

But before he could scream out, as his muscles just made the motion to rush forward, damn whatever she would do to him, her glinting eyes snapped to him and a suddenly blooming pain on the back of his head had Stiles on the floor with the sight of Kate’s too wide smile as she looked down at him with his child in her arms the last thing before only blackness took over.

 

—————————————————————

 

The men were already beginning to tire, Derek internally regretting his decision to leave late in the day as they trudged their way through a mountain path. The trees began to become less dense the higher they traveled, signally that soon they’re be reaching the apex of the path instead of having to climb over the whole goddamn thing.

Boyd rode by Derek as his second in command, the two of them sharing a comfortable silence. That was what Derek liked so much about the man, the sort of stoic side they shared with each other, and the ease with which they were in tune with each other, both in the midst of a battle and when sharing a cup of ale at night in the war camps to help sleep.

Derek turned to open his mouth and speak, to mention something about finding somewhere to let the men rest early to get a full day in tomorrow, when everything burst to chaos.

First, men, concealed in the dirt and brush, leaped out, weapons already drawn and ready to fight. Derek’s own troops cried out in alarm and confusion, scrambling to make their formation and go on the defensive until they could make straight what was going on.

But Derek was already distracted even as his horse reared up, kicking at assailants, still gazing with horror what he’d caught over Boyd’s shoulder as they’d emerged from the thicket.

Like a mirage from that horrible night so many years ago, Derek feeling transported to the night he sat huddled with his sister and dying from the inside out, the outright of the castle vibrantly visible in the night haze with the upper towers in a bright fiery blaze.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How much do you hate me? 
> 
> Haha, here's the set up of the whole climax to this story! Next chapter is gonna be quite a doozy for sure, but I hope you'll all be satisfied! Last call for your bets on what you think's gonna happen with the big showdown!
> 
> Just a notice, I'm planning on just having the next chapter be one long conclusion, and then an epilogue chapter after that, and then the story is done! I've already written the first couple chapters of my Sterek Outlander!AU fic, so theres that to look forward too as well!


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